


MEMOIRS OF A PIXIE

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-25
Updated: 2006-06-26
Packaged: 2019-01-19 17:30:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 39,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12414726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: Behold the world of Hogwarts through the yellow eyes of a cornish pixie who takes up the onerous task of matchmaking for his beloved mistress Lily Evans.





	1. Prologue : The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

  
Author's notes: 1  


* * *

**CHAPTER 0NE : THE BEGINNING**

It all began when Merlin, the greatest sorcerer of all time, sat down to play his harp in a green glade, oblivious to all the hustle and bustle of the world around him. I was but a tiny larva then, infantile and naive, on the threshold of becoming a cocoon, when enchanted by the soulful stirrings of Merlin's song, I fell into his lap and looked upto him with my bright yellow eyes.

Reader, that tiny fall was one giant leap for wizardingkind, for Merlin and I at once became bosom buddies, and he christened me after his father as Basil.

Basil. The yellow-eyed grub who blossomed into a handsome young pixie with blue-and-gold wings, and three slender feelers.

Yes, Reader. Not _**two**_ , but **_three_** feelers (I dislike the word antenna; they make me sound like a broadcasting station, if you please).

The first feeler was to smell the toothsome dishes prepared by Merlin's granddaughter Magdalena. The second was used to taste the wondrous nectarines of Merlin's great wide orchard. And the third one? Heh, heh, heh. The third one was -- I suppose Merlin charmed it that way, the sly old fox -- a legilimens!

And if you -- pest of a Reader -- don't even know what legilimency means, I really don't know what that says about your IQ. For your kind information, legilimency is the art of external penetration into the depths of the complex minds of humans, and extracting their feelings and memories. Yes, _muggle_ , you may call it mindreading (sniff!).

Well then, we had a great time, Merlin and I. I was his constant companion, and since we could both read each other's mind, we were intellectually very compatible.

It didn't last long though. I still remember the day when Merlin died -- not as a war hero, but as a shrivelled hunchback......It is painful even now.

He smiled at me with gratitude in his gray eyes as I hovered above him-- his only friend at his deathbed. And he said to me in his hoarse voice --

"Dear Basil, what a friend you have been to me! My one true friend! Words have never been needed between us, yet as I lie here, weak and forgotten, I feel as if I must speak up. There is a favour that I must ask of you."

I fluttered my wings eagerly. _Yes, anything for him. My master, my best friend._

" There is a boy named Ptolemy in Rome, in whom I see the makings of a great wizard. He is bright and brave, and he needs a guide to help him. I want you to go to him, Basil, be his friend and conscience as you have been to me. You are wise and attractive; he will fall for you at first sight. He will listen to you, for you are not noisy or naughty like the others of your kin, and that feeler of yours has always been a useful tool. Will you be Ptolemy's aide, Basil? Will you do that for me?"

I looked at him sadly. _Surely, the approaching death had set him off his rocker? I mean, of course, I'm good-looking and blue-blooded and irresistible; all that is very common knowledge. But. But. But. Me, a pixie, old like him......Would I be a suitable dragoman for a nine-year old boy. Me? To be Ptolemy's conscience, when mischief and havoc are second nature to pixies (owing to the DNA linking them to doxies, watersprites and leprachauns)?  
_

Merlin read my mind, and smiled. "Ah, Basil! You are no ordinary pixie, but a pixie hatched from a dragon's egg on a full moon night! You have thousands of years yet to spend on earth, you cannot possibly think of fading so soon? You were meant for greatness, you know. Your knees might have started to wobble, but that's got more to do with the ink bottle that you smashed yesterday than with your weakening bones. Don't waste your talents, Basil, but go to the boy Ptolemy. He will know....."

And then Merlin breathed his last.

Without wasting more words on the gruesome aftermath of Merlin's death, I will proudly inform you that I didn't dillydally, but set off immediately for Rome. There I met Ptolemy, and we hit it off immediately ( I am that good!). He was a good boy and I stayed with him till he lost his throne in a battle, and then I decided to move on.

And so, from then on , my life has been a relentless journey from one wizard's lap to another master's cage. Be it Cliodna, Circe, Agrippa, Icicle, Diana or Eric....I have fulfilled the post of a pet and a philanthropist most dutifully and happily.

Till one day -- long after Hengist's murder -- as I sat pensive upon a grassblade disguised as an innocent butterfly, a cat lunged at me from nowhere. It would have been an untimely end for me, if a girl hadn't scooted away the cat with a branch and taken me upon her palm.

A girl with long blood-red hair and brilliant green doe-like eyes.

An angel who walked upon this unworthy earth under the name of Lily Evans.

Reader, I fell in love with her instantly. She, with her gentle ways and blithe smiles, her melodious voice and bright wit.

She was as enamoured with me as I was with her, and she took me home perched upon her left ear. Her parents received me with delight, mistaking me to be a butterfly ( _I am good at camouflage_ ) with some mutation in its genes. _Bah!_

They bought a glass case for me, a very cosy one too, because it gave me ample space to stretch my large wings and slender feelers.

Her sister was a downright hag, and far too suspicious for my taste. She tried very hard to get rid of me, but I avenged myself by spraying her with my stink glands and wart venom, which caused her to have rashes and miss her date. She stayed away from me after that.

It seems Lady Luck was sweet on me as well, for a year later, when Lily turned eleven, she received her letter for Hogwarts.  
Hogwarts! Hoggy woggy Hogwarts! The most esteemed school for honing the magical skills of budding wizards and witches!

My Lily was a witch! It was a dream come true ( _Staying with muggles is tiresome; I like to belong in my own world and observe magic, thank you very much!_ ) and Lily and I set off for Hogwarts on a sunny Tuesday morning aboard a gleaming scarlet engine.

I am pleased to say that once we arrived at Hogwarts, Lily's new mates immediately spotted me to be a pixie -- and not a butterfly -- and Lily was most gratified at the discovery. I had been worried she would abandon me for tricking her with my brilliant camouflage, but she didn't. Yay!

And now, its been six years, and I am still the only one allowed to adorn her beautiful hair or pinch her elven ears.

Currently I am perched upon her warm shoulder as I view her fairy-like hands as they turn the pages of a musty, dusty book recounting the tales of valour of exiled pirates.

I sigh in ecstasy. Ah!

I can honestly say that Lily is my favourite companion so far. True, she can never be as wise as Merlin, not as brave as Ptolemy, not as beautiful as Diana, and never as wealthy as Prince Eric. But the head that owns that bounteous fall of crimson curls is a beautiful shrine on its own.

Her touch is as gentle as the Mediterranean breeze, her heart as pure as tears, and her thoughts.......I daresay even Merlin hadn't got such imagination. She is a poet, an artist and my Guardian Angel.

I am not a mere showpiece for her, not a liability either, and she never makes selfish demands of me. She is not vain, even though she is the smartest, prettiest, kindest and most popular girl of her year. I do not have qualms about reading her mind, because it is untainted and devoid of all evil. She is always so full of life and hope, and that is something that I've never encountered before in my eventful life.

She is Headgirl this year, and I cannot think of anyone who deserves the post more.

And so, as I dip my feeler into her flask of pumpkin juice, I feel as if I've found the essence of my existence.

And from _here_ unfurls my tale.

 

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A/N: I know this first chapter isn't very interesting, but if you'd just take one look at the first section of the second chapter....Tell me if you like/despise/hate/love/cookie/flame it.....Just tell me anything.... 

Please Review. Dr. Fawkes :) 


	2. Red-Letter Days

**1st September, Thursday  
**

**Dumbledore's Office  
**

**After the Inaugural Feast  
**

**Current Activity: Somersaulting in Perplexity  
**

**Word of the Day: Sphinx (= a person whose real thoughts cannot be guessed a.k.a. Dumbledore)**

_** In which Puck establishes that Merlin and Dumbledore are brothers. ** _

 

I always wonder whether Merlin and Dumbledore are related.

The same long white beards, bright twinkling eyes, obsession over a Pensieve, and appalling dress sense. They both have long fingers that click together when in deep thought. 

They also have this annoying trait of the Sphinx in them, which makes me think that their gene pool must be linked.

"Would you like a sherbet-lemon, Lily?" asked Dumbledore. "I'm rather fond of the muggle sweet, it reminds me of the lemonade my Aunt Wilhelmina used to make."

See.

Another similarity between Merlin and Dumbledore.

They both have weird taste buds.

Lily took the offered confectionery with trembling hands. She'll probably be scrubbing her teeth like mad afterwards, but she's just incapable of saying NO to a 140-year old man who likes tenpin bowling and collects Chocolate Frog Cards.

"I hope you will forgive me for mentioning it Lily," said Dumbledore, " but I'm pleased and a little proud of how well you have been coping with your parents' death last Christmas in that gruesome car accident."

Bah! 

COPING WELL, did you say, you barmy old codger!?

Refusing meals, staring blankly at the wall for hours on end, not talking to anyone, not even batting an eyelid even when I threw a plate of porridge at her…

"You are staying with your grandfather now, are you not?" he asked again, and Lily nodded.

A knock on the door later, a tall, lanky boy stepped into the office with a Headboy Badge pinned to his shirt.

A boy who was fiddling with his tie, and was casually chewing Droobles' Blowing Gum.

BILLIONS OF BLUE BLISTERING BARNACLES!

JAMES POTTER is the new Headboy!

Dumbledore has definitely gone bananas. Perhaps honey-topped and marshmallow-whipped as well.

Oh Potter, you rotter! You who show respect for authorities by blowing gum at their faces, you who happens to be a Troll in disguise, a trigger-happy Diplodocus, you who are a gibbering Anthropoid…Tell me, you Pirate! How did you manage to steal Remus Lupin's badge even though its been cursed with an _Intruderblast Jinx_ (I should know, since I was a victim to it)?

No wait.

Even _POTTER_ doesn't have the gall to try such a dastardly trick with ALBUS DUMBLEDORE.

"I am pleased to inform that this year's Heads are James Potter and Lily Evans - both from Gryffindor, " announced Dumbledore. " both highly responsible, fair, intelligent and capable students, in voting for whom we had absolute unanimity."

Is he talking about _James Potter_ as well? 

TEN THOUSAND THUNDERING TYPHOONS!

I suppose he thinks its funny, giving me a cardiac stroke like that, and then making me crack a rib from laughter?

I looked at Potter, who was still standing motionless by the door, like one of Dumbledore's gargoyles.

Potter was staring at Lily unreservedly, as if he wanted to gobble her up, and Lily was avoiding his glance determinedly.

Really, staring should be BANNED.

"Won't you please take a seat, James?" asked DD, the corners of his snow-white moustache twitching.

Finally, as if he would like nothing better than to eat up my poor girl, the Greatest-Git-in-the-World decided to condescend.

"As the Headboy and Headgirl of Hogwarts," said Dumbledore, "you have a formidable task ahead of you, Supervising the security of the school, the treasury and the yearly budget, examinations and career counselings, detentions, tutions, school equipment supplies…and the list goes on --"

And ON and ON and ON and ON (judging by the thickness of the book McGonagall sent to Lily).

" -- You also have your approaching NEWTs, and you will have a tough time juggling your duties and academics. But you are your school's representatives, and we expect you to uphold all the dignity of your post and the glory of your school."

So, no pressure there, Lilykins.

"Dark times are upon us," continued Dumbledore. " The prejudice against muggles and muggleborns is spreading like wildfire, but it must not infiltrate Hogwarts. The war raging outside must remain outside."

"Pardon me for interrupting Professor," said Potter suddenly, and I was amazed to hear the harsh tone of his voice, "but the school is not devoid of such prejudices. It would be living in Fool's Paradise to imagine that muggleborns inside the school are safe. There have been numerous such instances in the past that -"

"And that is why you have been appointed, James," said DD gently. "To ensure that such instances do not repeat themselves."

Potter flushed.

I was impressed (only slightly) in spite of myself.

James Potter was actually being MATURE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

What was the world coming to?

Lily was obviously thinking along the same lines, because she was no longer looking at Dumbledore, but staring at Potter in unflattering disbelief.

I have always thought that Lily's eyes have some kind of magnet in them. And so, I was not at all surprised when Potter's eyes sprang to her immediately.

As I said, he really looks like he wants to devour her, the CANNIBAL.

Apparently Lily thought so as well, so she quickly averted her eyes.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "On a lighter note, I recall a joke my dear friend Nicholas Flamel was telling me the other day. Its about a hag, a vampire, and a healer who all get together in a bar and -"

It's OFFICIAL.

Merlin and Dumbledore are long-lost brothers, who got separated because Merlin was abducted by the deadly Yellow-Glove Gang for dancing with a frog in the Festival Of Fools, and was sent back in time by Grindelwald for wearing smelly red socks that didn't match the colour of his shiny purple robes.

Not.

But at least they're both insane.

Doesn't it prove that their DNA is linked?

~*~ 

**1st September, Thursday, Night  
**

**Gryffindor Girls' Dormitory  
**

**Current Activity: Watching the girls unpack**

 

####  _**In which Puck learns the Importance of Being a Tart.**_

 

It's always a ball, watching the girls unpack. All the goodies that their parents send along, the smell of detergent from their freshly laundered clothes, socks to shred, chocolates to borrow, inkpots to fling, trunks to upend…………..

Ahem!

Lily's just immobilized me with a Freezing Charm -- that girl is really getting too big for her wand.

"Merlin, I'm so tired," said Hestia Jones, yawning wide enough to show me all the celery sticking to her molars. " Why can't we unpack tomorrow?"

"Because you are a messy forgetful nerd who always leaves everything for the last minute, and then ends up regretting it?" asked the haughty Emmeline Vance, admiring herself in her Goblin-made hand mirror.

Tut, tut, Miss Vanity Vance. The first night back, and she's already demeriting her best friend.

A loud crash tells me that Hurricane Hestia has just tripped over her tuck box.

"Oh, Hestia!" exclaimed Jane Stebbins, rushing forward to help up her friend.

"I'm alright!" said Hestia, even though she was now sporting a large throbbing bruise on her forehead. "You'd think I'd be used to bruises and injuries by now, they follow me like my shadow! I am SUCH a clumsy clod!"

Hear, hear.

"Hush now!" said Jane soothingly to her weeping friend. "You go and change into your nightdress, I'll unpack for you. You always forget where you arrange things anyway; so it's better if I'm the one in charge."

Now that's our Jane.

Always helping others, always comforting others, always enlisting her services, always supplying me with a fresh batch of my favourite Mintcookies…

"What's up with our dear Headgirl?" said Miss Emmeline the Vain, looking at Lily, who was gazing at the portrait of Healer Pura Cervantes so intensely that one would think she had to write a thesis on it. "You've been off in the Ozone ever since you got back from Dumbledore's Office."

Why, thank you, Captain Obvious!

No, I'm alright," said Lily, waking up from her reverie. "Its just that James Potter as a Headboy comes as a bit of a shock."

And the Biggest-Understatement-Of-The-Year Award goes to Lily Evans!

"I thought that the Heads of the school had a different wing allotted to them?" asked Hestia, who had now returned from the bathroom.

Lily squeaked.

I know. She actually SQUEAKED! She NEVER squeaks!

"Well, er, you see," stammered Lily, flushing to the roots of her hair. " I couldn't stand being in the same wing as Potter, so I decided to settle over here. You don't mind, do you?"

Emmeline raised her eyebrow at Lily.  
Hestia raised her eyebrow at Lily.  
Jane raised her eyebrow at Lily.  
I raised my eyebrow at Lily.

"Do you really have to ask?" said dear, sweet Jane, counting the number of towels Hestia had brought along. ( _Yes, you're counting correctly, Jane. That's eleven towels; I threw the twelfth one out of the window._ ) "Besides, Potter would have probably unleashed a Stink Pellet at you in the dark of the night. So, you're safe from him here."

Lily nodded her head emphatically, but I noticed that the other girls were sending each other odd furtive looks and smiles that struck me as ominous.

"Not to mention that Elphias Doge would throw a fit if he saw you living so near another boy," said Emmeline, sniggering.

Once again, Miss Vance, you are observant past comparison.

"I think Elphias and you should have a talk," said Hestia, plopping down loudly on her bed. "He's really getting too possessive of you. It's suffocating when boyfriends get like that. I met him in Diagon Alley, and he told me to warn you against flirting with Vernon, or he'd lock you in the Vanishing Cabinet."

I spluttered in indignation, as Jane and Emmeline neighed with laughter.

SEVEN HUNDRED SUFFERING SAMURAIS!

As if Lily could ever ogle Vernon Dursley --- the Elephant-cum-Hippogriff-cum-Killerwhale who has four chins, two left feet, one whip and absolutely NO neck!

"I don't have to fear Elphias' paranoia anymore," said Lily quietly. " I broke up with him during the summer hols."

Emmeline's jaw dropped till it nearly reached her knee and I am pleased to say that she looked rather like a gargoyle then. "You did?" she asked, sitting up straighter. " How did he take it?"

"Not very well," said Lily, sighing.

NOT VERY WELL? 

Really! Lily seems to specialize in understatements.

Let me inform you, Reader, that Elphias Doge acted like a complete loser!

First he raged at Lily, accusing her of cheating on him with half the boys of London. Then he shook her and cried and cried, till his voice became wheezy and I feared he would flood the room. Then when Lily refused to bend to his threats of murder, he raised his hand to slap her, and he'd probably have done so too, if I hadn't bitten his thumb.

"Don't you go feeling sorry for Elphias, now," warned Jane, because she had noticed Lily's eyes well up with tears. "Have you forgotten how he punched Sturgis Podmore - his BEST FRIEND - for shaking hands with you?"

Doge. The Bloody Cro-Magnon!

"Or that he hexed Remus all because he had smiled at you in Herbology Class?" said Hestia, beating her head with her pillow.

Doge. The Macrocephalic BABOON!

"You are well rid of him, Lily," said Emmeline, vigorously combing her long black tresses. "You don't need a Clinging Vine. Just because he has Veela blood in him, has beautiful silver-blonde hair, and is the Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain, it doesn't mean that he is without faults."

This proclamation can mean only one thing.

Emmeline Vance's next prey is Elphias Doge! After all, every one of Lily's ex-paramours has ended up in Miss Vanity's arms. The tart!

A soft 'thud' tells me that Hurricane Hestia has just toppled off her bed.

~*~ 

****  
5th September, Monday, Break of dawn  


**The Hogwarts Owlery  
**

**Current Activity: Watching Lily read her Grandfather's Letter for the seventeenth time (and teasing Athena, the only Barn owl in the Owlery)  
**

**Word of the Day: Neb (= beak, as in Athena's poke into my butt)**

  
_**In which Puck swears Never To Poke a Sleeping Owl again **_

 

*****  
_My dear sweet child_

_Hope you have tucked in comfortably and are currently not sulking around in the owlery._

_Petunia has just gone out on one of her shopping sprees, and will probably come home bankrupt, but I mustn't get my hopes too high._

_And before you start to wonder, I returned from my Safari yesterday. Madagacscar is the most beautiful place in the world. Dr. Pauncefoot and I had a whale of a time there, studying anthills and butterflies, going on scuba diving and fishing expeditions._

_We found a poor destitute porcupine hiding under our jeep one day, and Pauncefoot and I had a massive row over who would get to own it. A toss of coin and many drinks later, I adopted the porcupine and have now brought him home with me. Spikey, I call him. True, he becomes a tad uncomfortable to sleep with, but I suppose that's part of his charm._

_I've kept my promise, haven't I? I aid I wouldn't bring back a lion as a souvenir, and I haven't! Now, how about _you_ keeping your promise, and sending me that flask of Shrinking Solution? No funny business, I swear, strictly for research._

_Anyway, when I returned from my Safari, I found a most interesting letter waiting for me at the table._

_A letter from another one of your admirers._

_I must say, I was really getting tired of analyzing your fanmail, but this time it was worth the trouble. He seems a most charming fellow!_

_He told me all about a stag that he owned, and I was quite jealous of the chap._

_He wrote that he was one of your classmates at Hogwarts, and gave me a full blow-by-blow account of the Quidditch World Cup. His letter was about twenty pages long, but it was enjoyable and very enlightening. For example, did you know that the Holyhead Harpies is the first All-Girls Quidditch Team? Now that's called Women's Emancipation!_

_Your Secret Admirer also told me that he was going to marry my **granddaughter** and be the father of her children (at least ten of them), even though she is currently unaware of his intentions._

_Howdy Dowdy!  
I really do hope he manages to snag **Petunia**. Vernon Dursley is really not grandson-in-law material._

_Missing you terribly  
Your old and loony Grandpa_

_P.S. Could you please write to Dr. Pauncefoot? He's not talking to me these days. And do tell him also not to sue a case against me. Spikey is MY property; he was hiding under MY jeep; so what if Pauncefoot saw him first?_

~*~ 

**5th September, Monday  
**

**After leaving the Owlery  
**

**Current Activity: Getting struck by unscrupulous branches**  


_**In which Puck is insulted and swears revenge** _

 

I can think of a million better things to do right now.

#1) I could be borrowing Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans from Hurricane Hestia's cupboard and substituting them with pebbles.  
#2) I could be breaking glass windows along with Peeves.  
#3) I could be showering Mrs. Norris with fleas. #4) Better still, I could be snoring peacefully in my tiny crib next to Lily's bed.

But instead, I am supposed to be Lily's bodyguard as she takes her customary MORNING WALK along the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest at ungodly 5 A.M. of the morning.

"Come on, Puck! Hurry up!"

Yes, Reader.  
She calls me Puck -- after a mischievous character in one of those idiotic Shakespeare's plays she so loves who lived on Pook's Hill and messed up the love lives of several innocent civilians.

What a daft idea, giving a name like that to a pixie!

But I suppose I can't nip her ear for such a sacrilege, for then she won't disentangle me from this cobweb?

"What a glorious morning for a walk, eh Puck?" she asked me, as her hands freed me from my bondage.

Call this a GLORIOUS WALK?

Scrambling between theses ruddy tree branches and cobwebs, wading through dusty leaves, hobnobbing with pestilential inhospitable beaky birds…All right for HER, with her wand and her dragon hide boots, but if this goes on, I will have no wings left!

And what's it all in aid of, I ask you? A broken neck, a cramped ankle…Forests should be legally abolished, all those bats and bees nesting in them!

"Now I wonder who sent that letter to Grandpa?" muttered Lily, apparently unaware of my growing fury. "He's got to be an avid Quidditch fan, and someone who owns a stag…."

Gah! Even Peter Pettigrew could have told us that! And its not the first time some admirer has written to her or her family members.

Oh, yeah! Lily's had her share of stalkers, all right.

There was Timothy Sawyer in Nursery School who sent Lily that atrocious Valentine's Day Card. And Garret Gates who blew kisses at her at the bus stop till she came crying home. Then, there was John Stebbins (Jane's twin brother) who claimed she was his sunrise and his sunset. There was Brandon Shaw who leapt at her whenever they passed each other in corridors. Not to mention the time when the Giant Squid tried to pull her into the lake!

And, of course. 

There was Pighead Pothead Puffhead Pesthead Potter who tugged at her hair/ kept trying to hug her/ called her Carrot-top, Braid Birdie and Emerald-eyed Evans/ and asked her out every time he saw her.

I turned around at the ' _swooshing_ ' sound behind me.

Well, well, well. Speak of the devil.

"Good morning Lily," said James Potter, his broomstick in one hand, and made Lily jump out of her skin.

FORTY-FOUR FLAMING FUJIYAMAS!

Did he just call her _Lily_? He NEVER calls her by her first name! After all the years of epithets that he has given to her, he has suddenly switched over to a first name basis!

Not.

It must be the branch I had crashed into.

These BLASTED morning walks! I knew they would impair my hearing.

He grinned at her, but I am proud to say she did not return the favour.

"Taking the usual morning walk, I see," said Potter, grin slightly waning.

"Er, yes," said Lily awkwardly. I suppose she's still trying to adjust to the fact that this Odd-toed Ungulate is her new coworker. " You on your usual freedom ride?"

"Yes," said Potter. "Flying always helps in getting rid of stress. And God knows, this year is going to have enough of that."

"Well, then", said Lily. "Don't let me distract you."

He gave her a very odd smile then, like he was seeing a miracle that she couldn't. It's really very irritating when somebody adopts that kind of visionary far-sightedness.

"Chickening out again, Lily?" he said softly, as Lily started to move away.

Lily whipped around in shock.

You churlish sandbag! How dare you take her first name from your unworthy lips! How dare you call her chicken! Chickens are rude, and noisy, and interfering, and weak-hearted and --

"Exactly why did you call me chicken, Potter?" asked Lily, surprise written large over her face.

Precisely.

"You have been avoiding me lately," said Potter, his eyes boring into her, and once again he looked as he wanted to roast her on a stove, and eat her up with mint sauce. " After Dumbledore's Office Meeting, I tried calling you back, but you didn't once look back. Every time I see you in the corridor, you run away as if I were the plague. You don't reply when I greet you - with the exception of today - and you ignore me at the Prefect Meetings, even when I'm asking suggestions from you."

"Its all a matter of coincidence, and your hyperactive imagination, Potter," said Lily coolly. " I've been busy, your suggestions were silly, and I am slightly hard of hearing."

Potter once again graced her with his arrogant smirk.

"I think you are afraid of me," he said softly.

Lily snorted. "And _why_ would I be afraid of you?"

Potter didn't say anything.

That's because he didn't have an answer.

That leech-livered bandicoot.

"You haven't moved into the Headgirl Chamber yet," he said, after staring at her long enough to make my blood boil.

"I want to spend my last year with my friends," said Lily, giving him an icy glare.

Predictably, Potter's smirk widened.

"Your friends can always meet you there," said Potter. " _Mine_ do. It would be much easier if you moved in…We - as the Heads - have so much to discuss and plan. It would be very convenient if we were in close proximity to each other. Come on. Please?"

"How many times must we go through this? When I say no, I mean NO, Potter," said Lily, with a toss of her magnificent hair. "You of all people should know that."

Potter flushed. "Well, it is McGonagall's orders, not mine," said Potter. 

"I'll tell McGonagall my condition. _You_ don't have to meddle," said Lily, still glaring at him.

"So you won't move into the Head Chamber? " said Potter, and Lily shook her head. "Not even if I tell McGonagall that your little Imp of a buddy - that stupid creature you call Puck - tore the OWLs Marksheet yesterday?"

BILLIONS OF BLUE BLISTERING BARNACLES!

Did he just call me an **IMP**? 

Me, the last man standing of the Monarch Cornish Pixies of Wessex? Me, the sole survivor of the War of the Sardinian Sorcerers? Me, the only spectator of the rich legacy of Merlin and Circe and Agrippa? Me, in whose veins runs the blue blood of Figaro and Titania of the Fairyfolk of Lilliput!

To compare me to a common mothball! _To call me an IMP?_

Why you MEGALOMANIAC SEAGHERKIN DIPSOMANIAC BASHIBAZOUK NARCOLEPTIC DORYPHORE COLOCYNTHIC TROGLODYTE ECTOPLASMIC GOBBLEDYGOOK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! **POTTER, I HATE YOU**!

"First of all, Potter," said Lily furiously. " It was PEEVES who tore up McGonagall's Marksheet, not Puck! Secondly, no amount of blackmail will make me shift into the room next to YOU!"

Thank You, Lily! Thank you!

But what about the fact that I am NOT AN IMP!???

"Thirdly, Potter," said Lily, "let me warn you. Don't go crossing Puck, you will rue it."

Oh, yes.

Devilish tricky little blighter I can be.

And I am NOT AN IMP!!!

"A little _imp_ like that?" snorted Potter. " Yeah, right."

FOR THE LAST TIME POTTER! I AM NOT AN IMP!

"You truly are scared of me, Lily. You probably think that I'm going to prank you. This is just another excuse to avoid me. Even now, you look as if you want to run away. Why can't we ever have a decent conversation without you blowing up at me or scatting away? I am really not that horrible, and I stopped hexing people ages ago," said that Abominable Potter, his voice suddenly harsh and jagged. 

"I am not scared of you, Potter!" said Lily huffily.

"Prove it", said Potter, his face red with anger. "Move into the Heads Chamber with me."

Oh NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!!

This is not good! This is SO NOT GOOD!

There are 3 ways Potter can make Lily say No -  
#1) Flirt with her.  
#2) Order her.  
#3) Blackmail her.

But if he goes challenging her, she just won't stay low. Her self-pride just won't take it.

And she will end up saying yes.

It's her ACHILLES' HEEL, I tell you!

It seems Potter has finally realized this weakness of hers.

"I dare you, Lily," said Potter, and took off on his dilapidated derogatory broomstick.

Merlin save me!

I don't want to spend a whole year within twenty yards of that imbecile infantile inflammatory Potter!

Lily must be restrained AT ALL COSTS!

~*~ 

**6th September, Tuesday  
**

**In the Passage behind the Tapestry of Quasimodo the Queer  
**

**Current Activity: Raising a lantern so that Lily may read her letter  
**

**Word of the Day: Claustrophobia (= fear of enclosed spaces, for they seem to suffocate me)**

  
_**In which Puck appreciates the good sense of a certain someone **_

 

 

If you are wondering why Lily has chosen this highly uncomfortable hideout for reading her letter, then wonder no more.

Its because that PEST of a POTTER has suddenly taken to mouthing words at her during classes, following her everywhere and hinting heavily about a Chicken who had green eyes, had a phobia of Quidditch players and owned an imp.

_How_ can anyone be so irritating?

I am NOT an imp!

Can anyone blame Lily if has develop a phobia of James Potter?

Well, to speak of better things, the following letter arrived this morning in a lavender scented envelope.

*****  
_My Dearest Lily_

_I'm currently not in the mood for writing any preamble, and I'm sure Mr. Evans Sr. has already made enough introduction. (I am that same lovesick baboon who wrote to your grandfather.)_

_I am writing this letter to you because I just can't keep bottling up my feelings any longer._

_You are quite merciless, do you know that? Smiling like that and making me wobble in my knees._

_Your Puck is a most interesting fellow. Not to mention extremely good-looking, he's the only one who can give you competition, you know. They don't make Pixies that intelligent and well mannered anymore!_

_How beautiful you looked yesterday morning as you read your grandfather's letter for the seventeenth time!_

_You should let your hair loose more often, it becomes you. It's distracting for a bloke like me, no doubt, but it's nothing short of a crime to deprive your most ardent admirer of marveling at it._

_Who knows, your wisps may accidentally brush by me in the corridors._

_Last year, when we had to study Amortentia, do you know what it smelt like to me?_

_It was a mixture of peppermint and crushed pine needles and jasmines and musk - the same mesmerizing perfume you always seem to carry with you. I won't say that you smell like lilies, because I know how you hate namepuns._

_I hope my letter does not distress you; it would be the greatest failure of my life if I saw but one tear in your divine eyes._

_You beautiful, agonizing creature!_

_Till I write to you again._

_Completely Despairingly Gaga over you Your Humble Devotee_

_P.S. -- I've kissed the letter five times, so that your hands, at least, may feel my lips._

*****

Lily dropped the letter as if her hands were burning.

I frowned at her.

Really, you silly child. 

Was it so horrible to be touched by the lips of such a fascinating young man who writes such beautiful letters and possesses such flawless calligraphy?

Now that's what is called true good breeding.

He has sense enough to take your grandfather's permission first, and only then write to you.

He has sense enough to identify your smell, and to remember how you hate puns.

He has sense enough to count the number of times you read a letter.

He has sense enough to distinguish between a **Pixie** and an **Imp**.

Unlike some _other_ people I know.

~*~ 

****  
In the empty History of Magic classroom  


**7th September, Wednesday  
**

**Current Activity: Helping Lily memorize the names of the Banshees of the 18th century I-Scream-You-Scream Séance.  
**

**Word of the Day: Barbecued (=grilled, such as the Banshee who claimed the Right to Silence.)**

**_In which Puck decides that some giraffes may be carnivorous._**

 

So how do I help Lily in memorizing her school notes?

Well, it's like this. She picks up a topic from anywhere in the book, and recounts all that she knows about it, while I check if she's missed out any points, or if she's given any wrong answers.  
If she's correct (which she usually is), I give her my Thumbs-Up.  
If she's incorrect, I throw the book at her.

Smart, ain't I?

Its great fun, for she never scowls at me when I hit her, but laughs. Its good to have at least ONE owner who doesn't lash at you for showing him his mistakes.

But today she didn't laugh when I aimed the Fanged Frisbee at her. She's just sitting there like stone, staring at the blackboard, as if she wants Binns to come out of it.

I stared at the notebook in my hand.

__Dinah the Din-maker (1745-1767)  
She was the Chieftain of the Banshees of Berkley who screamed for twenty-eight days at a stretch on Maroon Island, till the sailors at the harbour fainted to death. The Ministry of Noise pollution did not take charges against the Banshees because Dinah threatened to "Sing" to them if they dared to hex a single vocal cord of her larynx.  
Thankfully, Dinah did not live long after the ugly episode, and met her death at the hands of a retired deaf Auror… 

Okay. So, now to show Lily the picture of Dinah from her Frog Cards Collection (in which Dinah is sneezing rather violently), and I'll be ready to inspect Lily's answer.

I waved the card to her face.

"Cut it out, Puck!" she cried out, jumping so hard you'd think I had hammered her knuckles to a squashy pulp. "Didn't I say that I didn't want to continue this tutoring? Didn't I positively say that I'm fed up of Banshees and Silencing charms? Didn't I say that I no longer want to continue History of Magic NEWTs? Didn't I say that you are not to throw notebooks and inkpots and Frisbees at me? When I say no, it means NO, do you hear? And no amount of begging, or blackmailing will ever change my mind! I will not fall for your tricks! Oh, no, I won't!"

I cowered behind the desk, shaking with fright. 

I had never been on the receiving end of her temper tirade before.

It was terrifying.

I had seen Lily this angry only twice. The first time was when Bumstead the Bully in Lily's primary school had tried to make her swallow a bucket of paint to punish her for slapping him. And the second instance was after the DADA OWLs in fifth year when she had called Potter an arrogant, bullying toerag.

Needless to add, they had both deserved her ridicule.

But _me_? What had _I_ done to deserve her anger?

She was now pacing about the room, muttering madly to herself. I tried to stretch my ears to listen more closely.

"Blast him!" she said. "What makes him think that I will succumb to his vile schemes? I told him I wanted to be with my friends, but even that reason wasn't enough for him! First he stalks me, and then he challenges me! What am I, his showgirl? I will simply not --- "

Ah, so this is what its about.

Ruddy Potter and his dare.

I should have known that only Potter can get Lily angry like this, that only Potter can induce her to take out her anger on ME!

Why is Potter so bent upon making my life a milling inferno?

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

I looked around in my helpless rage to find a monstrously large black owl catwalking on the teacher's desk. I recognized it immediately. It was the same school owl that Lily always used to deliver her letters to her family.

Now what was that featherbrain doing here? Didn't I tell her ages ago that I wasn't jealous of Lily's attentions to her? Didn't I tell her that I was far better looking than her, and that it was a futile hope that Lily would ever exchange a Pixie like me for an owl like her? Didn't I tell her not to show off?

"A letter from Petunia!" cried Lily excitedly, all her anger forgotten. She stroked the stupid ugly owl as she freed the letter from her claws, and the old dingbat had the nerve to hoot at me.

But I put aside my pride, and giving a very dirty look to the blasted bird, leaned closer to read.

*****  
_My Very Un-dear Abnormal sister_

_I've said it before, and I'm saying it again._

_I do not wish to have any contact with you or the other freaks of your world._

_I do not want to have a sister who makes friends with werewolves and giants._

_I do not want owls swooping down on me, and shedding their feathers and do-do on my dressing table._

_I do not want letters from YOUR secret admirers, lecturing ME on how an ideal sister-in-law should behave._

_I do not want to associate with the stigma that is Lily Evans._

_Now, if you will excuse me, Vernon is waiting for me in the lounge._

_Go get a life, you UGLY MAGGOT!_

_Or do everyone a favour, and shave off that ridiculously-red hair of yours._

_Maybe then you'll be able to snag a **real** boyfriend, who will take pity on you and marry you._

_Scoffing mercilessly at you_

_Petunia_

_P.S. Tell this love-blind fan of yours that red hair is NOT a temptation._

_P.P.S. Also tell this stupid fan of yours that the giraffe in Africa has no resemblance to me. So there!_

*****

That miserable collection of bones and horses' dung! That SCARECROW of a girl! 

How could Petunia be so cold and cruel to her only sister? Yes, I had always known she had too much of a neck and too little of a brain, but this letter proved that she had absolutely no heart! Had jealousy now made her so desperate that she was willing to break all ties with Lily?

So Lily is a stigma, is she? And what are you, you NANNYGOAT, eh? I suppose _you're_ a gift from heaven?

And what was that dig about Lily being ugly and not having a real boyfriend? 

Gah! You MISERABLE MOLECULE OF MILDEW! Take a peep into your mirror; I believe you will find a crack in the center if you look closely enough. 

And just in case you didn't notice, wasn't this letter about _Lily's_ admirer who thinks red hair looks tempting? 

Keep writing letters like that, and maybe someone will take pity on _you_ and cart you off to St. Mungo's. That will do everyone a favour.

Oh, and by the way. You DO look like a giraffe, except for two very important differences:  
#1) Even giraffes are smarter than you.  
#2) Giraffes are herbivorous, while you eat out people's hearts.

So there!

My poor Lily was now sobbing bitterly, as if each sob was a fresh stab to her heart. The letter lay crumpled and forgotten on the floor, but not before having caused enough damage, and I was at a complete loss about how to console her. I merely watched her in compassionate silence as tear after tear slipped across my head and unto her knee.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

~A/N: So what do you think? I had great fun writing it. Plz review.  
Criticisms and suggestions are welcome.  
Dr. Fawkes

  



	3. An Angel in Pyjamas

**CHAPTER THREE: AN ANGEL IN PYJAMAS**

 

Release

Where does reality begin and end,  
does it lie within a circle's flow?  
Am I Me from past or Me from now  
and where did the old case go?

Did you know that it's easier to believe the bad  
and think that we're the cause  
Of hurts played out upon us deep  
and deserved through Karmic Laws

Turned inside out and back again  
the sense of who I was to be  
Is caught in a drowning maelstrom  
of Want and Fear and Need

Can you recognize the acrid smell of fear,  
or see what color it paints your dreams?  
Have you ever willed your lungs to breathe  
while praying that breath would cease?

Did you know that breaking bones go crunch  
and the sound will never leave your ears?  
Did you know that bodies break, not bend,  
as the spirit fills with tears?

Did you know that blood's a lubricant  
and you will pray for it to spill,  
When the sound from your lungs is a rabbit's scream,  
harsh and thin and shrill

And that dying forces can overcome us  
and some scars never heal,  
That you can't find who you are inside  
and where to connect to what is real

You think he can't enter your spirit,  
that you're fighting off the blows  
But time reflects your error as he settles  
deeper than even your Psyche knows

I wear the mask, I dance the dance  
of a woman free from scars and pain,  
But remove the mask and I'm unrecognizable  
even though I look the same

Dear Lord, haven't I had enough?  
Why can't I bleed away pain from my soul?  
Why can't wishing and willing and wanting to  
be enough to make me whole?

By C.S.E. ( A Survivor)

**  
7th September, Wednesday**

**Gryffindor Girls' Dormitory**

**Current Activity : Feeling really pissed off **

**Word of the Night : Insomnia (=sleeping disorder, a disease that Lily often suffers from)**

_**In which Puck has a strange dream.** _

 

_The Cherub was holding a clover in his hands and admiring it from all angles._

_"I'm sorry for breaking Petunia's doll", said a little girl earnestly, her big green eyes brimming with tears. "I'm sorry, I really am."_

_The Cherub just laughed merrily at her, not looking remotely angry._

_"Now, now, hush my dear sweet Lily", he consoled the Cherub in his fruity, childish voice. "Petunia knows it wasn't your fault; she's just angry at herself for being angry at you. You must give her time to cool off, and then she'll give you some of her delicious chocolate brownies, and you can be best friends again."_

_"I don't think we can ever be best friends", said Lily, rubbing her eyes vigorously. "Petunia's best friend is Roberta Williams and she thinks I am an ugly freak. The other day I caused her noselets to grow in long rings, and she called me Evil's Spawn." And with that Lily broke into a fresh surge of tears._

_"But aren't you forgetting something, my dear?" asked the Cherub.  
"Doesn't Petunia always laugh at your exploits? Doesn't she always reward you with her mint cookies? She loves you; you're her kid sister, after all!" _

_"I suppose you're right", said Lily in her watery voice. " She even allows me to tag along with her and her nasty boyfriend. Her 'Sentinel', she calls me."_

_The Cherub clapped his hands loudly. "See, deep down, you two are so fond of each other."_

_Lily nodded and sniffed several times.  
"But, Mr. Cherub", she said suddenly, "may I ask why you're wearing pyjamas? You're a cherub; you're supposed to wear Quidditch Robes, aren't you?" _

_The Cherub laughed again. "Don't be an imp!" he said, chortling. "I can wear anything I want. Besides, I was looking for four-leaved clovers in the Quidditch stadium, do you like this one? I thought I'd give it to you in return for the poetry-book I borrowed from your bedside table."_

_"The clover IS very pretty", agreed Lily. "Is it really for me? That's very kind of you! When I was but a wee toddler, I used to hunt around the pond for them. I don't know how to thank you………"_

_"Well, if you insist", said the Cherub, blushing. "You can go out with me."_

_"Oh dear!" said Lily, looking pain stricken. "I'm afraid I can't do that. You see, I have a secret admirer who writes the prettiest of letters, and he'll be heart-broken if he sees us snogging."_

_"Oh, well", said the Cherub. "If that is the case, you can darn my sock instead. The school rat has nibbled it to shreds."_

_Lily shook her head again.  
"I'm afraid I can't do that either", she said, crying again. "You see, I left my needles and thimble in the car, and….and the car crashed into the ditch, and…" _

_"You let your car crash into a ditch?" spluttered the Cherub in indignation, crossing his arms. "How rude! How absolutely mean! How utterly --"_

  
I woke up with a start, and for a moment I thought that my silly juvenile dream had actually transpired. Then I heard the quiet sobs beside me, and my eyes swung into focus.

Lady Slumber is a friend of many, but sometimes even she cannot deliver my Lily from her gremlins. This too is one of those nights when she must sob quietly into her pillow, taking care to be inaudible. She's twisting and writhing in her bed, as if its foundation is not feathers and velvet, but thorns and pines. Petunia's letter has robbed her of her sleep yet again. It is not Petunia's harsh slander that keeps Lily awake, but the knowledge that they can never again be the sisters they once were.

Ever since last year, Lily's life has been going downhill. First her parents' death, then a string of poorly chosen boyfriends and bad break-ups……and now to crown it all, Petunia wanting to disown her. It is really unfair how the nicest people have to bear the greatest burden.

I sometimes really feel very irritated by Lily. Why is she crying? It was never a secret that Petunia hates her. It's hardly a secret when your minx of a sister screams hatred at you at your parents' funeral. Maybe she'd never allowed herself to believe that the breach between the two sisters could never be bridged again. Maybe she's been in denial all this time…..

The pillow's so wet that it has become really uncomfortable now. One more tear, and I'm going to catch pneumonia. So I decided I'd had enough.

One swish of my tail, and the candle is alight. I suppose that's one of the advantages of my beautiful streamlined wedge-edged tail. Godmother Hoopoe has always said that it makes me look like a blue jay from afar. Whatever _that_ means.

Lily raised her green eyes to meet the reproach in my yellow beady ones. I brandished my tail high, and brought it down upon her shoulder with a sharp _slash_! Lily calls it my Power Stroke.

Lily winced. "Stop that! And don't glare at me. I know you're angry with me, Puck", she said contritely. "But I can't help it. You don't know what's it like to lose a sister you've always idolized."

Really. What IS it with humans that makes them such a poor judge of character? Placing people like that dung-brained demented Petunia on a pedestal, when they don't even deserve to be the Mucus-secreted-by-the-fungus-growing-on-the-dirt-beneath-the-sole-of-the-toe-of-your-left-shoe.

"Its all my fault", she said softly, scratching my tufty head, as I tried my best not to fall asleep. "If I hadn't begged Mum and Dad to take me to the Carnival, they would be alive and happy in Evansville now, dancing to Frank Sinatra."

I gave her another one of my Power Strokes. 

_Slash!_

To tell you the truth, I'm pretty tired of her morbid survivor's guilt. Its downright depressing to see that lovely smile of hers disappear _poof!_ Just like that. Come to think of it, how long is it since I really heard her laugh? You know, laugh that merry, alive laugh that makes you imagine water oozing from a fountain? Why can't humans accept their sorrows and move on?

Looking a trifle ashamed of herself, she beckoned to me with her finger for that usual late-night kiss, the kind that makes me feel on top-of-the-world, and I was just about to snuggle into her warm hands, when -

"Hey, Countess Dracula! Cut out that light, some of us would like to sleep here!"

No points for guessing who that could be!

Emmeline Vance, of course! After all, losing her beauty sleep would be nothing short of a disaster for her. Think of all the snogs she could lose, all the Witch Weekly fans she could be criticized by, the boyfriends she could be dumped by…..

That's it! What better way to get back at Miss Vain than to release some of my Stink Glands on her! Then she'll stay awake the whole night, fretting over her lost glory, and I'll give her a vampire-bat to keep her company. Calling Lily a Countess Dracula, indeed!

"Puck!" whispered Lily, and she grabbed hold of my wings as I was marching towards Emmeline's bed. "Don't please attack her! I know you don't like her much, but she's right. We should tuck back into sleep."

And she promptly blew off the candle, giving me a soft, sad smile in the darkness. 

I hate those smiles of hers. They make you think that everything's all right in the world, even when you know it isn't. They disillusion you with the hope that Lily's happy again, even when you know there's as much chance of that as hair on Kettleburn's bald head. Tomorrow that mask will be on again, and she will pretend as if nothing's happened. She's a great actress, I must say, for she even fools me sometimes.

Hey, wait a minute.

I didn't get my nightly kiss!

All thanks to Emmeline the Vainest of Vains, of course! 

 

**9th September, Friday**

**Chaos in the Girls' Dormitory**

**Current activity: Rubbing my bruised head **

**Word of the day: Portfolio (= a file for capturing one's brainwaves) **

_**In which Puck loses something very dear to him.**_

 

This morning, I woke up to the 'thud' of Lily's comb falling upon my head, and for a moment I felt that I was having the hangover of one of Emmeline Vance's virulent perfumes.

It is a thankless job, I tell you, being the pet of a seventeen-year old girl who has suddenly decided to turn into something of a virago these days.

" I KNOW I kept it here!" Lily was repeating over and over again, as she overturned the drawer's contents onto the floor, and began throwing the articles hither and thither, making sure they hit me each time I moved.

Really.  
This girl has a MAJOR sleeping disorder. First she cries till 2'o clock in the morning, and then she goes traipsing all over the school (earlier than usual these days, just to avoid that Paranoid Potter!) on her Early-bird-catches-the-Early-worm Walk. As if that weren't enough, she starts upheaving her trunk and cupboard at 7 a.m.? I mean, even though I am vibrant and dashing and vigorous, I AM much older than she is, and I need my daily dose of rest.  
If this continues, I'm going to go on a strike, and that's that! 

"What's this ruckus about?" asked Hurricane Hestia as she tumbled out of her bed prostrate upon the floor. It's a feat that has become a daily ritual for her.

"My Artfolio!" cried a flustered-looking Lily, flinging her socks to the far corners of the Earth. "I can't find my Artfolio, has any of you seen it?"

Ah, her Artfolio. That utterly delightful collection of her sketches and drawings, that simply sumptuous manual of her portraits and craftworks……Reader, did I tell you that my Lily has the hand of true artist? Believe me, her quill can spin the most intriguing of pictures, perfect to a "T". And her Artfolio - very cleverly transfigured into a Quillcase - is the fruit of seven years' hard work and creative genius.

To say that her Artfolio's missing is nothing short of a catastrophe. Especially, as it included an extremely well-done marble figurine of mine, with all the wedges and the curves in the right places. I had hoped to send it to my Godmother Hoopoe in Transylvania one day, but unfortunately, some things can never be.

"But that's terrible, Lily!" ejaculated Jane, sitting up in her bed. "Don't you remember where you last saw it?"

Lily swung her arms around helplessly. "I always keep my Artfolio in the left drawer of my desk, and now it isn't there!"

I felt my heart sink.

Lily Evans is the most organized, disciplined girl in the entire Hogwarts, and she has the memory of an elephant. She never misplaces her things, and she would certainly never lose her most prized possession - her Artfolio.

There is only one explanation left.

"Someone must have stolen it", said Emmeline, twirling her hairlock with her index finger.

"What do you mean 'stolen'?" spluttered Lily in disbelief. "Why would anyone steal it?"

Emmeline the Vain rolled her eyes. "Come off it, Lily! You're the Headgirl and the top student of your year. You have many rivals in this school, all of whom are jealous of you, and would love to hurt you."

Hmm. Is she describing herself? It could be, you know. I'll have to check her cubicle later on, when she's off snogging Boy Number 253.

"It seems to me that a gang of thieves has been set loose on the school", said Hestia, putting chunks of her toothpaste into her mouth (probably to freshen her pungent breath). "Yesterday, Dinah Finnigan was telling me how someone stole her Diamond Brooch. Then there's Margery Louise who says she is sure that she saw a hooded somebody crawl into the Ravenclaw Common Room, and steal their silver candlesticks. And not to forget, Gina Summers, who's put up a notice for her lost bracelet on the Bulletin Board. Oh, and did I tell you about Caroline Duffy who -"

"Oh, shove it, Hestia!" said Jane angrily. "Don't you see how upset Lily is?"

For Lily had slumped to the ground wordlessly with her head in her hands, looking the very picture of Patience smiling at Grief.

"But who on earth would want to steal Lily's Artfolio?" asked Hestia, shaking her head, apparently unabashed by Jane's reprimand. "I mean, its not so special or anything, what profits could it bring to anyone? It's just a jumble of drawings, nothing more. And so, I think Emmeline's right. Actually, I'm sure this one's done by a jealous co-year!"

Not special? Fiddle Dee and Fiddle Dum! I bet she she's saying that because Lily refused to do her portrait two weeks ago. Well, what could Lily have said, with her head nose-deep in homework?

"Maybe that's why the Head students are supposed to live in the separate password-protected chambers allotted to them", said Emmeline, a sly grin about her face. "To be spared from the attacks of jealous co-years."

Lily and I both gave her scowls worthy of Narcissa Black. 

 

**9th September, Friday**

**Breakfast in the Great Hall**

**Current Activity: Mutilating the Tablesheets with my phlegm **

**Word of the day: Undernourished (=starved, like a poor ole Pixie that goes by the name of Puck/Basil)**

_**In which Puck practices his Aiming Skills.** _

Don't you just love blueberry muffins swimming in apple sauce and heaped with marshmallows, and the hot garlic soup that sends those delicious aromas through your cold-prone virus-inhabited nose? It's a great way to cleanse all your nasal-passages and prepare them for two-way traffic once again. So how come I'm having a cold magnificent enough to flood the entire room with my phlegm? All the credit goes to the one and only Lily Evans. Because thanks to Lily and her crazy morning walks, I'm now having a bout of earth-shattering sneezes. Maybe, if I'm lucky enough, I can sneeze into Emmeline's glass of Pumpkin juice, without her knowing? Sigh. Some dreams are too good to be true, for Emmeline's just swatted at me with her fork.

MILLIONS OF MUSKETEERING MERLINS!!!!!!!!!

What's this I see? No muffins? No apple sauce? No soup? No marshmallows? What the devil is wrong with these stupid House-elves? Don't they know I need my daily share of marshmallows? All that I can see on the dining table are the boring bacon, exhausting eggs and tiring toasts! 

THIRTY THREE THUMPING THESTRALS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So the rumours were true. I'd heard that Pernitty the Head House-elf had caught the lovebug, and is moping about these days, but I hadn't believed it. After all, Pernitty has always been a crusty, grumpy fat-so, the least likely candidate for Cupid to select. Hmm. Its time I had a man-to-man talk with Pernitty, and remedied the change in his tastebuds.

"I met John while coming downstairs", said Jane, giving Lily a sideways glance through her owlish spectacles. "He says he has some awfully good news to tell you."

Lily managed to give her a weak smile here, but I daresay she'd rather have given Jane a death glare. 

Being accosted by Jane's lovesick twin brother after having just lost your Artfolio is not a good way to start a morning. As usual, I turned out to be her punching bag. 

"Puck!" she said crossly to me. "You're dropping bread crumbs all over my schoolrobes. If you don't stop it right NOW, I'm not going to knit those mittens for you!" 

I showed her my finger, at which she rolled her peridot eyes, and went back to looking dejected.

A moment later, Hurricane Hestia fell into Lily's lap, upsetting the jar of marmalade in the process. 

"Ouch!" cried Hestia, adding some lovely profanities under her breath as she struggled to get up. "My ankle, I think it's sprained! I twisted it around the leg of your chair!"

Now why doesn't that surprise me?

Lily helped Hestia up and examined her swollen already black-and-blue ankle carefully.

I love Hestia's bruises; they always show up so quickly and in such flamboyant colours and shapes. My favourite one so far is the deep red scar on her wrist which is shaped like a hippogriff, and was awarded to Hestia when a particularly vindictive baby Mandrake bit her there back in second year. They say even Dumbledore has a scar on his knee shaped like the underground map of London. Maybe I can creep into his office when he's fast asleep and check it out. I hope he won't sue me for indecency.

"I think we should take you to the Hospital wing. That bruise looks serious", said Lily, as Hestia whimpered with pain. 

"No! No!" cried the aghast Hestia. "I've had enough of Pomfrey's dreadful potions to last me seven lifetimes. I think she deliberately makes me drink the more putrid ones, so that I stay away from the hospital wing. I think I'll be alright without them; I'm used to falling all over the school."

Hear. Hear.

Lily and Jane traded skeptic looks, but said nothing, and I was allowed to resume my place on Lily's warm shoulder once more.

"My pimples are returning", said Jane suddenly, looking at her reflection in the back of her spoon. 

I gaped at her. 

Is it possible that Vance the Vain has started distributing her fashion tips to Jane as well? I cannot imagine a worse horror than two girls living in the same dormitory freaking out over their reflections in a spoon, a mirror, a glass tumbler and every other shiny surface they can get hold of. 

Why, _of course_ Miss Emmeline the Exhaustingly Vain had to defile the impressionable Jane Stebbins into worrying ceaselessly about her appearance. Her life would be incomplete and meaningless otherwise. Hmph! After all, not everyone has an efficient guide like me who can steer them clear of these wayward temptations of make-up and attracting boys. Besides, Jane has always been too naïve and gullible for my tastes.

Oh. Goodness Gracious Me. Someone please tell the poor girl that picking on pimples will only make them worse.

What sharp nails! Does she want to poke someone's eye out? My dear Jane, no, no, don't scratch there! Its only going to help in spreading the bacteria. I can't watch this! She's going to ruin her sweet face!

Lily and Hestia had just started lying to Jane that she hadn't had any attack of acne, when thankfully, a distraction arrived in the form of Sturgis Podmore. 

"Hey, girls!" he said in his crisp cheery voice, as he bent down to kiss Hestia on the cheek. 

I've always liked Sturgis. He's an extremely broad, sandy-haired fellow and is a great follower of the Cult of Marshmallows. Something he and I have very much in common.

"Did you find your Omnisculars, Sturgis?" asked Hestia, without caring about the fact that she was spilling tea all over her hair plaits.

Sturgis sighed heavily. "Nah, I didn't", he said, looking very woebegone. "I put up a notice too, but of no use. I've given up all hope of ever finding it again. Dad's going to kill me, when he finds out. He spent quite a sum on it; those Omnisculars had special voice-recording buttons as well."

"It seems all of us are losing our possessions these days", said Lily, scowling and spearing a potato with dignity.

Sturgis gave her a hard look. "You know", he said, "I shouldn't even be talking to you, after the way you've dumped my friend. Elphias is so heartbroken that he hasn't spoken a word since days. First you canoodle with your own brother-in-law-to-be, then you dance with strange boys whom you claim to be your cousins and flaunt your ex-lovers at Elphias' face, and then you dump Elphias saying that he's a jealous straitcoat? The only reason why I'm still trying to be civil to a cruel Ice Queen like you is because you happen to be Hestia's best friend - God knows why -- and considering that-"

I think that Sturgis will remember Hestia's very loud slap and my very masterfully thrown fork for a very long time.

 

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  _ _A/N: Lets see...Who will be the next Freud and tell me what that dream meant?__

__PLEASE. Please review._ _

__Dr. Fawkes :D_ _


	4. Eureka!

**CHAPTER FOUR: EUREKA!**

 

**9th September, Friday  
**

**Peeves' Chandelier, Third Floor  
**

**Current Activity: Fuming in Indignation  
**

**Word of the Day: Kleptomania (uncontrollable desire to steal)**

_**In which Puck reflects upon the weird habits of witches.** _

 

Humph.  
I suppose you want to know what I'm sulking in Peeves' extremely uncomfortable, dirty, cobweb-ridden hideout, when I could be listening peacefully to McGonagall's dire warnings about the upcoming NEWTs in Lily's warm and cozy pocket?

Its all due to Lily's fatal sense of conscience. I mean, what was I supposed to do? Let Sturgis insult my mistress like that? No way, buddy, not in a million days. Besides, didn't Hestia say she was desirous of discarding Podmore, too? Didn't Hestia say she was tired of Podmore's snores and wanted to start a fresh relation? Didn't Hestia slap him, too?

But no.

Lily Evans has to take it in her head that it was all her fault, that Hestia and Sturgis broke up because of her, and that it was a mean, dastardly trick on my part to throw a fork and a platter of pudding at him.  
So she abandoned me at the dining table in the Great Hall with a reproachful glare, and now I'm chasing flies, up here on the third floor.

I hope that Podmore carries that scar on his nose for a really long time.

A cold, putrid breeze tickled my ears suddenly, and I turned around to snarl at the culprit.

"Peeves!" I cried out, quivering with rage. " Exactly how many times have I told you not to disrupt my reveries? The last count was Three Million Thirty Three Thousand Five Hundred and Forty First time! Will you never learn? And what's with that SMELL? Have you been smoking Dungbombs again? Egad! You know, if you continue to thwart my solitude in this way, I'll never come up here again -"

That old reprobate had the nerve to laugh. Honestly!

Peeves' laughter is not a pretty sound. It's more like a cackle and a snort and a grunt combined. Perhaps a few barks as well.

"Now, now, you old Blue Blood!" he said to me, in what he probably considered an indulgent fatherly tone. "Just because Lily's angry with you, doesn't mean that you can take it out on ME! _(cackle cackle)_ What did you do this time? Put your dirty feet in her soup bowl again? _(cackle cackle)_ "

"No!" I shouted indignantly at him.

"Alright, alright!" said Peeves in between his gales of laughter. "Chillax, mate! Here, have some peanuts, they're delightful _(cackle cackle)_."

I looked down to see a handful of fungus-covered fingernails in Peeves' outstretched hand, and shuddered. Is this the kind of hospitality that Peeves' family had taught him? But then, perhaps Peeves had never been BORN, if you know what I mean? Perhaps he's the result of a failed science experiment. Perhaps he was born in a bottle full of decaying Befuddlement Solution. Perhaps he was the result of a Red Taped law in the Ministry; he's so much like the bureaucracy -- always around, always slimy, always sadistic.

_Cackle. Cackle._

Peeves was now in a full rant about my aversion to sinful foodies, so I stuck out my tongue at him. "Shut up, you cachinnating cockatoo!"

"Oh, go on, then", Peeves said, still grinning madly like a Cheshire Cat. "Tell me what's troubling your pretty little head. I'm very good at finding solutions to problems; I'll definitely find one for yours."

Oh, Heaven forbid.

Anyway, I told him. He made sympathetic chuckles at the most inappropriate places, and I doubt that he heard, because he was apparently more interested in plastering ink all over the ceiling.

"So, Lily lost her Artfolio, you say?" said Peeves suddenly, only to interrupt my effusions about the sculpture she had made of me.  
Peeves clucked loudly, and shook his head pseudo-ruefully at my scowl.

"It's not your fault, mate", he said, trying to hide the dimples in his cheek. "Don't go blaming yourself for your 'momentary lapse of judgment'…Hell! I would have probably struck a fork up his arse, and pinched him, HARD, on his you-know-what-and-where. Then I'd have dumped pomegranate juice on him (I heard from a very reliable source that Podmore is allergic to it), and poured phlegm on him-"

Its suggestions like these that make humble creatures like me look up to Peeves in respect and admiration. Where the hell does he get those ideas from? He's a genius, really. Can I ask him if he gives private tuitions? Peeves has always said that Pixies are meant to be wild and untrammeled, and that my time with Lily has mellowed me. As if! I'm sure that streak of rebellion still resides in me.

"Girls are really strange, sometimes," I said dolefully, when I remembered Lily's dire warnings of staying away from Peeves.

"Oh, I'll say", agreed Peeves. "They spend hours giggling and gossiping and doing make-up, and hunting up new ideas to snag boys, and cry floods over a lost piece of jewelley ---"

"Now, wait a minute!" I cut in angrily. " Don't you even DARE talk about Lily that way! She is never-"

Peeves waved aside my protests with a wave of his wispy hand. "I was talking in general terms. I know your beloved Evans is very exceptional. I'm merely drawing my conclusions from my most recent observations."

"And what might they be?" I asked him testily.

"Well, take that Emmeline Vance, for example", said peeves, and I at once leaned in closer to listen up. "She was fretting over her emerald earrings the last time I saw her in the corridors. Moaning and groaning so loudly that I thought she was the Bloody Baron. Apparently, some miscreant had stolen her earrings from her Ornaments Box --"

BILLIONS OF BLUE BUBBLING BLUNDERING BABBLING BLISTERING BARNACLES!

"What!" I spluttered at him. "Vance lost her earrings? Her emerald earrings? The Emerald earrings? The ones that have been passed down in her family like an age-old heirloom? The Emerald Earrings have been stolen?"

Peeves grinned at me. "Now, we've established that fact, yes."

"Oh, dear oh dear!" I said, taking my head in my hands, and shaking it in frustration.

Peeves narrowed his eyes at me. "Now what does that reaction mean? You're not going to change into a girl now, are you? Because then I'll have to cut off all ties with you -- "

I clasped his collar hastily and shook him.

"You have no idea how beautiful those earrings were!" I growled at him. "They're the same colour as Lily's eyes, and, and…One of them had a tiny hairline fracture at the base, in which I often used to see my reflection. It made me appear like a wood-nymph with a halo around my head! It served as such a delightful hand mirror! Merlin's Beard! To say that those earrings have been stolen is nothing short of a sacrilege. "

"Well," said Peeves, scratching his wobbly chin, "if you're going to put it in that way………Its quite understandable that someone stole those earrings. Who wouldn't want to own such a delightful hand mirror?"

I knew from his tone that he was in earnest. He must be desirous of taking a look at those earrings too, though I don't think HIS reflection would have ever shown a halo…

I continue to look morose. "I'll never forgive the person who has stolen them", I said vengefully. "So what if those earrings belonged to Emmeline the Vain? They were BEAUTIFUL! And now some greedy gibbering nincompoop has stolen them. I'll rip out his eyebrow if I ever get to know his identity. "

"I see you're assuming it's a 'he'? " asked Peeves, waggling his nose.

"I was talking in general terms", I reminded him airily. "But you're right. Its probably a girl, who wanted those earrings for herself."

Peeves sighed dramatically, and I had to shutter my nostrils because his breath was far too odious.  
"Stealing", he said philosophically, "is a terrible, terrible crime. "

I snorted. Yeah, right. This, coming from the guy who is called the " _School Pincho_ ", and is probably the worst, most irremediable pickpocket known to mankind.

I glared at him, and did a very good imitation of Lily rolling her eyes.

"If those are your true views about stealing", I said sarcastically, " why do YOU steal then?"

"Me?" said Peeves airily. " I am a kleptomaniac."

"Kleptomania?" I repeated in some confusion. "What is that?"

It was Peeves' turn to roll his eyes at my ignorance.

" Kleptomania is an uncontrollable desire to steal, even when you know you shouldn't, and when you don't even NEED to steal. I know plenty of rich, intelligent people who indulge in this sort of thing, not because they want to spite others, not even because they want to make a collection.

"Kleptomania is a clinical disease that you cannot control. I don't do it on purpose; it is like an addiction that you cannot overcome. It is an obsession that grips you like a fever. It is a matter of compulsion, not of choice. It is impossible to resist."

So. Peeves is a KLEPTOMANIAC!

Poor fellow. People are just prejudiced against him.

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**9th September, Friday, Nightfall  
**

**Gryffindor Common Room  
**

**Current Activity: Sitting snug in Lily's coat pocket**

_**In which Puck comes to a dreadful conclusion.** _

 

Yes. You guessed right.  
Lily has forgiven me.

Her anger doesn't last long, bless her. Though of course it didn't hurt that Jane added in a good word for me, and a bloke from sixth year asked Hestia out, someone named Desmond Doyle. How that clumsy clod of a girl manages to snag boyfriends so quickly is beyond me. Considering Lily is still single, and hasn't received a single invitation for a date ever since she broke up with Elphias.

Lily is currently painting a landscape, and her face is covered with streaks of blue and gold paint all over. Some first years had taken into their head to make her look like Hiawatha, and Lily hadn't the heart to refuse them. So they had each taken a brush and pretended they were applying war paints, till a drop of paint had entered my eye, and Lily had to splash me severely with water.

I was just about to tell Lily that the girl in her picture would look better in a pink dress, when --

"Er, Lily?"

It was John Stebbins, a blonde-haired boy that I greatly dislike, even though he is Jane's twin brother, simply because he leers at Lily in a way that makes me feel nauseous.

This aforementioned nerd-of-a-boy held out a card, and Lily took it with a most pained expression on her face.

It was a card which I never hope to see again in my life.

A girl with red hair was kissing a boy that looked suspiciously like John Stebbins, and his hands were in places that I don't even like to mention. And at the top of the card was an inscription in bold letters that said "KISS ME, RED!"

Really, this boy beats even Potter, sometimes. The only thing that's keeping me from throttling his throat is the fact that Lily will not take kindly to the murder of her best friend's brother, fiendish though he may be.

"Jane told me that you lost your Artfolio?" said Stebbins, and Lily gave him a tensed nod.  
"Well, that's a pity! Because you see, the other day, I saw an advertisement in the Evening Prophet saying that the _Artists' Annals_ are holding the  Decennial Art Contest. And I thought you might have wanted to participate. Look, I even brought the newspaper clipping."

 

_THE ARTISTS' ANNALS PRESENT TO YOU THEIR DICENNIAL ART CONTEST!_  
Are you an artist? Do you have creations that your friends gush over? Do you plan to become the next Picasso? If so, send your best paintings to us, and you might be the lucky winner in this nation-wide contest!  
Ages must be between ten and twenty, and you must send Ministry-approved documents for proof.  
Sponsored by blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah….

 

I'm sure Stebbins must seem to you a thorough gentleman, who always has Lily's best interests at heart.

But. But. But--

#1) Thorough gentlemen should know when their Lady Love is feeling dejected.  
#2) Thorough gentlemen should know that girls who have lost their Artfolio cannot hope to submit their creations in an Art Contest.  
#3) Thorough gentlemen should know better than to rub someone's losses in their face.  
#4) Thorough gentlemen don't pass around lecherous cards.

And therefore, I conclude that John Stebbins is not a Thorough Gentleman. Thank you very much.

"Oh! And I completely forgot!" said Stebbins. "This package just arrived for you. Someone had left it there at the Portrait Hole Entrance. "

He had taken out a gift-wrapped packet from his coat, and handed it to Lily, making sure that his fingers brushed against hers in the process.

Lily looked at Stebbins in a disparaging sort of way.

Heck.  
Anyone would have understood that Go-Away-Now-&-Let-Me-Be sort of look.  
But what do you expect from a guy who wears yellow bunny-slippers, and plaits his hair with green ribbons and blows gum at every instant of his humdrum life.  
Somebody tell that Miserable Iconoclast that Lily means him to go away! As do I.

Perhaps Stebbins had taken this to be some sort of Staring Contest, because he didn't relinquish his gaze for a full five minutes. (I'm standing right next to the clock, and I know how to read it, you dolts!).

Finally,  
"I'd really appreciate if you go and finish your pending homework, John", said Lily in a tired voice.

Phew.  
He left, flushing to the roots of his hair and scowling slightly. He'll probably go and complain to his sister that Lily was absolutely rude to him, and then Jane will not talk to Lily for a week.

But what the devil.  
He left.  
And he left before I lost my temper again.  
Amazing intutions he has, that one.

Lily's loud gasp cut across my thoughts, and I whipped around to see that she was holding a crystal slab in her hands.

A crystal slab that had been awarded to her by the Artists' Annals for being **"The Most Promising Artist of the Decade"**.

TWENTY TWO TATTERING TUTUS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Is this a dream? Has my Lily been awarded? What? How? When?

Hush now, and let me read the letter in her hands.

 

_  
"Dear Miss Evans_

_We are proud to inform you that you have been adjudged "The Most Promising Artist of the Decade" for your painting (replica enclosed) titled "Sleeping Spring". You receive an award for the same, and a cash prize for a thousand galleons, which has been delivered to your Gringotts Account (as you had requested)._

_It is an honour for the Artists' Annals to host your artwork in our annual magazine, and we hope you continue your association with our organization._

_Yours truly,  
Monsieur Pierre Cardin President, Artists' Annals_

 

Sleeping Spring  
Yes, I remember that painting.

It showed the pinnacle of an iceberg piercing a polar winter sky, and draped in sunlight. In the background was the faint figure of a lovely woman with her silvery-white tresses let loose, and a crescent upon her brow. Spring, ready to melt the frosted heart of the iceberg.  
Beautiful.

But the mystery is, if Lily didn't enter the painting for the Art Contest, who DID? Was it the one who stole her Artfolio? What made him/her do it?

"Puck!" said Lily, her green eyes stretched so wide that I thought they'd pop out. " I won a prize. At an art contest where so many esteemed and experienced wizards and witches submit entries. I won the prize! How on Earth---"

And then she stopped her raptures, for there pinned to the replica of her painting was a letter.

A letter with an extremely familiar handwriting, and a tiny packet folded within it.

Oh, go on Lily. This suspense is killing me. Open that dratted letter. Should I do it for you instead?

 

_My Darling Lily (I can call you that, can't I? At least on paper…)_

_I have a few confessions to make._

_I know that I took an awful liberty by sneaking into your room (please don't ask how) and borrowing your Artfolio, but please don't misunderstand my intentions._

_You see, I had often seen you sketching, and I couldn't resist taking a peep. When I realized how gifted you were at it, I wanted the whole world to know about it. And I got that chance in the form of the Art Contest hosted by Artists' Annals…. I knew you would never submit your artwork, because you think you are not good enough, so I decided to take matters in my own hands._

_My friends and I thought that "Sleeping Spring" was the best amongst them all, and I promptly posted it. In the meantime, I had to see you sulk for your missing Artfolio, but it was worth it, wasn't it?_

_Angelique, you have no idea how proud I am of you. You have no idea how much I desire to see your smile when you hold that award in your hands._

_Do I love you? You know that already._

_You are my addiction, my dear. You're an obsession that I've tried so hard to resist, but it overwhelms me, and has gripped me like a fever. You compel me to love you, in all your adorable ways. It is not a matter of choice for me, but a matter of necessity, for I need to go on living._

_And living, and loving you, are one and the same thing._

_Your Not-so-Secret Admirer_

 

There was a soft 'plop' as the packet enfolded in that beautiful, beautiful letter fell from Lily's lap and unto the carpet.

Lily picked it up with trembling hands, and unwrapped it most precariously.

They were emerald earrings, the exact shade of Lily's eyes and shaped like tear drops.

They looked so innocent, sitting there in the palm of her hand.

But I had seen them before, and as Lily raised them to her earlobes, they didn't seem so innocent anymore.

NINETY NINE NEIGHING NANNYGOATS!

:o

:o

:o

:o

:o

Lily's Secret Admirer is a KLEPTOMANIAC!

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**10th September, Saturday, Early Morning  
**

**Gryffindor Common Room  
**

**Current Activity: Panting and Perspiring Profusely  
**

**Word of the Day: Epithalamium (marriage song, like the one I'll sing at Lily's wedding)**

_**In which Puck realizes the Mission of his Life.** _

 

Lily and I have just returned from our morning walk ritual.  
Gah!  
Can't that girl ever give me a break? I mean, didn't she get her award, what, yesterday? Shouldn't she lay off work for a while, and celebrate?  
Not.  
She's absolutely relentless.

She's looking true to her name, fresh and blooming. And this is the first true smile on her face I've seen in months. In contrast to me. I am puffing and panting and heaving and huffing, and my sweat has probably collected like a reservoir in my shoes.

You know, that's the fourteenth time she's touched her ears; I suppose she wants to cop a feel of those exquisitely carved earrings. It's getting really irritating.  
I wonder if there's some way I can persuade her to shed them off?  
In any case, I hope she doesn't wear them in front of Emmeline, or Vance the Vain will probably pounce on them and claim that they're hers. Which they probably are.

Gosh.

What a turn to my expectations.

Here I was, thinking that Lily had finally found, or was on the verge of finding, her ideal lover…. and he turns out to be a kleptomaniac.  
It's a completely different story that he has many admirable features and writes lovely gushy-mushy-poo letters. What matters here is the fact that he suffers from a serious disease, and I don't want Lily to fall for a guy who suffers from a serious disease. (Look what happened to Peeves.)  
Otherwise, I'd have probably told Lily to get engaged to Remus Lupin (he's such a sensible, well-mannered boy!), even if he suffers from lycanthropy.  
A disease is a disease is a disease, as Remus himself says.

"Hiya Lily!" cried a small girl from the far corner of the room.  
It was Dorcas Meadows, a fifth-year Hufflepuff whom I recognized by virtue of her violet eyes and green-dyed hair.  
"Oh, hi Dorcas!" said Lily and smiled warmly at the girl, for Lily tutored Dorcas in Charms and was very fond of her.

Dorcas brandished a thick leather-bound volume in the air. "It's a photo album of my sister's wedding, just got it by owl. You had said you'd love to see it?"

Yay! I chirped with joy. It was one of my lifetime ambitions to see the bunch of colourful weirdoes whom Dorcas calls her family. I had heard such grand tales of them!  
For instance, there was her Uncle Tobias who collected balloons and cobwebs. Her father owned a firm that launched hair-care products and odour-free socks. Then there was her cousin Andrew Leipus who liked to count the leafblades in a tree. Not to forget, Dorcas' Aunt Hilda, who bred dragons in Romania.

"Here", said Dorcas, as she opened her album to the first page, Lily snuggled close to her side.

The first snap was of Dorcas' sister Maybel -- the bride -- standing arm-in-arm with her father and looking lovely in her white wedding dress.  
Reader, Maybel's face is no oil painting, and few would call her pretty. But it is amazing how a simple wedding dress can transform you into the most beautiful vision conceivable. There was such an delightful fusion of emotions gracing her countenance -- joy and nervousness, diffidence and excitement, sighs and smiles, but most important of all - hope.  
Maybel Meadows might not have been a Veela or a Fairy, or even a Nymph. But I'm sure nobody could look as comely as she did on her wedding day.

However, I could stand only these many gooey-eyed simpers and breathy moans, so I flicked over the page with my thumb impatiently.

This time, the bride was kissing her husband (their noses constantly bruising, and the Best Man nearby rolling his eyes) and they both looked so happy and sappy in love, that it made me feel like an intruder barging upon the sweetest moment of their life.

"They look so much in love", said Lily wistfully, while I nodded by her side. "See, even Puck thinks so."

"Garret's parents didn't want Garret to marry Maybel, you know", said Dorcas, turning to the next page. "The Carters are one of the few pureblood families in England, and Garret's dad wanted him to marry Bellatrix Black - another pureblood. We Meadows were not pure or rich or famous enough for them. Mr. Carter threatened to cut off Garret's inheritance, but Garret said he'd rather die than marry any other girl."

I snarled in anger.  
What Mumbo Jumbo! Those pureblood Perverts!

"So, um, has Garret been disowned?" asked Lily hesitantly, and Dorcas nodded.

"But Garret doesn't give a damn", said Dorcas proudly. "He loves Maybel so much…. Lily, you should see the two of them together…. You'll feel as if you've been struck by a thunderbolt. They just seem to melt in each other's presence…. They refuse to be parted even for a minute"  
Suddenly Dorcas wrinkled her nose in disgust.  
"Though it does get tiring sometimes. The two of them can't keep their hands off each other. Always smooching, like they've been hexed with a Permanent Sticking Charm…. Too many PDAs really, makes some of us nauseate."

Lily had a strange look on her face, and she had never paid such rapt attention to anything before, not even in Potions Classes.

"It would be something to be loved like that", said Lily, and she and Dorcas traded silly grins.

Yes. Don't we _all_ want to be loved like that? Don't we _all_ want a partner who would love us each day like it was the one final act before Doomsday?

I too had once tried my hand at love.  
We had met in a teashop in Rome. She was beautiful, and yellow, black and green, and she had the most scrumptious-looking knees possible. We professed undying love to each other under shady Eucalyptus trees, and made vows of Death-Before-Separation. But unfortunately, it was too good to be true, and hence, too good to last. The silly hag had run off with the bartender, and I had moped around for two weeks after. I had then decided that I would never again fall in love and die a crusty old spinster, but deep down, there has always existed a dream of finding my true soulmate.  
Er, very deep down.

Reader, it struck me then and there.

The IDEA OF THE DECADE.

The BRAINWAVE OF THE CENTURY.

It struck me right then and there, like a ton of iron bricks cascading upon my tiny little head, like a blitzkrieg across the sky, like millions of comets in space aiming at me…It was so simple and so crystal clear that I was astounded why I hadn't thought of it before.

How would it be if I, Puck-the-Great, installed myself as Lily's Official Matchmaker?

How would it be if I went groom-hunting for my dear Lily?

How would it be if I actually succeeded in this mission? Eh?

Well, I really don't care what YOU think anyway, so don't bother replying.

It would be the greatest accomplishment of my life if I could find the Ideal Husband for Lily, to show her the wonder of True Love (& good snog sessions) and to provide Lily her own Prince Charming with whom she could ride away into the sunset.

What better way to wipe off that smirk from that nitwit Petunia's horse-face than to show her that Lily is capable of snagging all the good things in life? All thanks to me, of course.

And then one day, I'll be playing Gobstones with Lily's green-eyed grandkids, and fly kites with them, and squirt ink at them, and play Matchmaker for them as well…

The very thought sends chills down my spine.

**  
My SweetiePie, My CupCake, My MuffinMaid Lily**

**I solemnly swear that I'll find THE best looking, THE most brilliant (after you), and THE most ideal other-half for you.**

**I will make sure that I find someone who will love you and cherish you for all of eternity, and never waver, and do all the romantic tosh that you deserve. (And if he doesn't, I'll pester him till the end of his days, heh heh).**

**That is, only if you swear to never go on morning walks again.**

And Now.  
I must return to that gorgeous photograph of that tantalizing and toothsome cake, which seems about fifteen-feet high, and is embellished with plums, blueberries and grapes.

Ah. Ecstasy.

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A/N:  I know I've not made LE & JP interact much, but that's coming up in the next chapter.  
Please. Please. Do review. :) Dr. Fawkes

 


	5. Master of all he Surveys

**CHAPTER FIVE: MASTER OF ALL HE SURVEYS**

**  
12th September, Monday**

**On my Way to the Third Floor Girls' Toilet**

**Current Activity: Smelling like a Goat and Sweating like a Pig**

**Word of the Day : Blackmail (manipulating othersone of Lily’s virtues)**

_**In which Puck decides to have the first bath of his life.** _

Why didn't Peeves tell me that the Chandelier which he lives in is infested with the worst kind of fungus in the world? Why didn't he tell me that this very fungus causes you to have acute bouts of dandruff and pimples? Why didn't Peeves tell me that this very dandruff causes you to shed hair at 65 per hour?

For Puck the Perfect now suffers from fungal infection of the hair. And is not so perfect anymore.

My poor hair, my gorgeous mane that was a cause of envy even to the fair Diana, is now in shatters and shreds. At this rate, I’ll be bald before the year is over.

All thanks to Peeves who gave me shelter from Lily who was angry with me over Hestia who dated Sturgis who insulted Lily.

Lily has offered to rub Eucalyptus oil over my hair – it has soothing properties – but only if **_I took a bath._**

A bath, did you say?

GOLDEN GALLONS OF GIGGLING GILLYWEEDS!

We pixies _NEVER_ bathe. We have our own self-cleansing body mechanisms, which come into action every night, and turn us fresh like a rose the next morning.

Me, take a bath, when thirteen thousand and thirty-three members of my clan have refused to do so? Me, take a bath, when I have not needed one for centuries of my dirt-prone existence?

How can Lily possibly imply that I need a bath? How can she possibly say that _I_ am dirty?

Just because her Secret Admirer – the bloody Kleptomaniac – thinks that she smells like mint and musk 24 hours round the clock, it doesn’t mean that she can accuse _others_ of bad body odour!

There is no greater insult to my physique than being told that I “smell like a goat, scratch like a flea and sweat like a pig”. And Lily has just done so.

But there is a lure to Lily’s blackmail, which I am unable to resist.

You see, Lily's nimble fairylike fingers have what is called the Healing Touch. All she has to do, is run her hand over my hot little head, and lo! I'm cured of all the pain in the world.

Maybe its because I love her so much... Dratted girl! Why did she have to make me rely on her so much? Isn't it supposed to be the other way around?

I suppose surrender isn’t always wrong.

So now, I’m on my way to the first bath of my life. Happy Birthday to me.

Lily better give me one hell of a massage. Or else.

**  
13th September, Tuesday**

**The Roof above the Third Floor Girls' Toilet**

**Current Activity : Wading in the Rain Puddle on the Roof**

**Word of the Day : Venerable ( worthy of worship, but not of brains)**

**_In which Puck hears something he doesn’t like_ **

Oh, well.

So now, I'm up on the roof above the Girls' Toilet on the Third floor, wading about in a rain puddle full of mistletoe and basking in the glory of the sun above me. And no, I've not forgotten my towel, either.

A cackle of giggles collided with my eardrums, and jolted me out of my thoughts. I peeped in through the window, and saw to my surprise a bunch of girls huddled together as if they were conspiring for Minerva McGonagall's murder.

One of them, I easily recognized by virtue of her long dark hair and large slanted blue eyes.

Vera Zabini.

The arch nemesis of my mistress. The most successful seductress of the school. And the Head of a club of senseless Social Butterflies, who go by the name of _The Venerables_.

The Venerables meaning "they who should be worshipped”, or so these girls believe, for they belong to the richest, most pureblood families in England, and are undoubtedly, in Lily's own words, "lovely beyond comparison".

Much as I would like to disagree, The Venerables _are_ quite pretty. I can see the rest of them too from here, flocked around Vera, like moths to a flame.

I think the one with the electric-blue hair is Gladys Smith. Her father runs a high-priced chain of hotels in St. Ollis, apart from a rather nasty temper. I can easily recall the newspaper article about how Mr. Zen Smith hexed a waiter for an eyelash in his soup.

Then there’s Melinda Bloom, whose family owns a renowned apothecary firm in Eastwick. It is a firm that has the policy of not selling medicines to wizards of dubious parentage, in other words, muggleborns.

The last one, I think, is Bertram Aubrey, whose father is a famous theatre actor, and is consequently full of empty words and hot air.

That the four of them should choose a smelly dingy toilet to discuss their secrets comes as a surprise to me, especially since they could buy the whole of Hogsmeade with their pocket money alone.

But I’m not complaining. I get to eavesdrop on them, don’t I? Never mind what Lily thinks.

Now, if only they would speak a little louder…

**Vera (twirling her eyelashes): Did you shadow the Vicar today, Melinda?**

Shadow a Vicar? Why would anyone want to stalk a vicar? Perhaps they’re talking in code-language….

**Melinda (with a theatrical groan): No, I couldn’t. I was sitting behind her in Arithmancy Class, but I lost her when we were filing out of the classroom.**

That’s strange. Melinda was sitting behind Lily today. And Lily isn’t the Vicar….

No wait. What’s that supposed to mean –

**Bertram: I really don’t see why we have to Inspect Lily Evans, the silly mudblood. What’s so special about her?**

SEVENTY SEVEN STAMPEDING SLYTHERINS!

Inspection of Lily Evans! My Lily, to be called a mudblood? My Lily, the apple of my eye, to be called silly! The only thing that’s stopping me from beating Bertram’s brains out is the awareness that I must find out about what’s going on here.

**Gladys: How many times do we have to spell it out for you, Bertram? We need to know why Lily Evans is so popular in spite of all her flaws!**

Flaws? What flaws are you talking about, Smith?

**Bertram (laughing bitterly): Lily Evans? Popular? What on earth are you talking about?**

**Vera (snorting): Are you for real? Come off it, Bertram? Haven’t you seen how all the boys eye her hungrily whenever she walks by? Haven’t you seen how many friends she has? All the Professors love her. Even the Slytherins seem to like her! Haven’t you ever wondered why?**

Well said, Zabini, well said. And I know the answer to it, as well. It’s because Lily has a heart, and you don’t. Its because Lily is not a slut like you, but she believes in helping everyone without any greed or any ulterior selfish reasons. So, there.

**Gladys: Exactly! And everyone has a weakness…. If we find out what Evans’s weakness is, we can control her in just the right way…. One slip, and we’ll have her writhing in our grasp. It’s called psychological treatment.**

Merlin’s Beard! How much evil can a person’s heart hold? How malicious can one get? Psychological treatment, my arse. Try all you like, Smith. You won’t find a single skeleton in Lily’s closet.

**Bertram: I still don’t see how we can gather seduction-tips from Lily Evans. I mean, will you look at her, for Salazar’s sake? **

**She never wears make-up; she never styles her hair. She dresses like a monk, which is the reason we call her Vicar, isn’t it?**

**She is rigid like a rake, and she slaps any boy who as much as flirts with her. She can’t even take a compliment properly! She snaps at boys who ask her out, and she’s a cheeky little minx too….**

**She’s never had a successful relationship so far, despite having had three or four boyfriends! She holds her head so high; one would think she’s looking at the ceiling. Her self-respect has turned into a hippogriff-sized ego. And she’s uptight to the point of frustration!**

Its bizarre, how she has somehow managed to turn each of Lily's virtues into a vice. All my dear girl has ever done, is to have been born into a muggle family. And that is the only reason why the vile Venerables can’t digest Lily’s popularity.

**Melinda: That’s it, isn’t it? All those reasons to shirk her are all the reasons why everyone still seems to like her…**

Their voices trailed off, and it was lucky they were gone, because I couldn’t have taken any further abuse of my mistress.

Did the other girls think the same way about Lily?

The sun didn’t seem that bright anymore.

**  
13th September, Tuesday**

**Behind Greenhouse Number Three**

**Current Activity : Perched upon a tree branch to eavesdrop again**

_**In which Puck is haunted by ex-paramours** _

Grrr…I wish this boy would speak up, or Lily’s going to miss her Herbology Class. Couldn’t the boy have waited till at least the class was over?

After all, he’s been doing nothing since the past ten minutes than stare at her.

As I’ve said countless times before, staring should be banned.

“I..I..was wondering if..if….” stuttered the boy finally.

Oh, just say it already, Doge. Don’t be such a silly goose, she’s not going to eat you up if you apologize for your past misdeeds!

“Can we get back together?” he finally blurted out, camouflaging completely with the red of Lily’s hair.

Lily just stood there, looking thunderstruck.

“Umm, I don’t think I’m ready for a second relationship with you, Elphias,” said Lily. “I mean, I can’t forget how you treated me the last few weeks….”

“I’m really sorry about how I behaved towards you, Lily. I know I acted like a jealous brat, but I was so torn apart at the thought of losing you that I completely lost it! I couldn’t stand some other boy holding your hand,” said Elphias Doge, running a hand through his elegant silver hair. “Lily, please. I’m really getting desperate. I need you back in my life.”

Lily sighed. “You don’t understand, Elphias. I’m not ready, yet, for--”

“Can’t you give me a second chance?” asked Elphias, looking woebegone. “You don’t think I’m good enough for you?”

“I never said that!” cried Lily with an anguished shriek. “Who wouldn’t like you, Elphias? You’re handsome and clever and brave—”

“Then you should go out with me again,” quipped the relentless Doge, stepping closer to her with a strange glint in his eyes, which I found quite ominous.

He was putting a hand about her waist, and pulling her unto himself…

Uh oh.

The sharp sound of a slap came a breath later.

“Didn’t I tell you that it was over?” cried Lily, quivering with indignation.

Oh, but it wasn’t. For the doodle-berried Doge had suddenly taken it upon himself to lunge at my poor shocked Lily, and force his lips upon her.

I couldn’t take it. I charged down with all my speed….

WHAM!

But it wasn’t one of my power strokes that had put Doge in a concussion.

It was James Potter whose fist had sent Elphias flying.

He looked murderous to the core, his hazel eyes darkened to a fiery cobalt, and his mouth curled in a ferocious scowl. For the first time in my life, I was actually afraid of him.

Lily turned to him angrily. “What did you do that for? You have hurt him! Oh, what will Madame Pomfrey say?”

Potter growled at her. “There was no other way of stopping him. You seemed paralyzed with fear!”

“I could have handled him myself! I don’t need your help!” cried Lily.

Potter glared at her for one long moment, and then, without a word more, he stalked off angrily.

The sound of an angry snort made me look around, only to see Sirius Black leaning against the very tree which I had perched upon.

I was surprised to see that he too looked quite angry. Really, what reason did _he_ have to sulk?

“You really are a clueless duffer sometimes, Lily,” he said, shaking his head at her.

Bah Humbug.

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A/N: This chapter isn’t much of a development, but I wrote it in a hurry. i wrote this chapter much earlier, though I couldn't upload it. This chapter is important because The Venerables will have a major role to play later on.

Please review; otherwise I’ll never be able to correct my mistakes.

Please review, otherwise I’ll never know whether I should continue this story or not.


	6. Be a matchmaker

**CHAPTER SIX: HOW TO BE A MATCHMAKER**   


(My Ode to Women all over the world (because every day is Women’s day!)

**  
14th September, Wednesday**

**Gryffindor Girls’ Dormitory**

**Current Activity : Shredding Hestia’s Quilt**

**Word of the day : Gymnastics ( a strange kind of dance)**

_**In which Puck gets into action** _

This morning I’d refused to go with Lily on her morning walk, as a consequence of which I slept in late, and woke up, not to the melodious sound of Lily’s yawn, but to the din of the seventh year Gryffindor girls. It gave me a pounding headache, and I was getting really pissed off. Understandably, I took out my anger on Hestia’s quilt.

Hestia Jones was standing upside down, so that her feet were beckoning to the universe—a very common sight. This was one of Hestia’s morning gymnastics, so never fear. The gramophone record of some unearthly horrendous music was playing upto its loudest volume, and to make matters worse, Jane Stebbins was singing along with it in her shrill and equally horrendous voice.

Someone put those poor girls out of their misery, please.

As for Emmeline and Lily, they were seated at the other corner of the room, and discussing something very important and very useless.

“You should think of going out again, Lily”, said Emmeline suddenly, while massaging her fingers with some foul-smelling moisturizer.

Lily gave her a defiant shut-up glance, but for the first time I wanted to agree with Emmeline.

“Come off it, Lily!” cried Emmeline loudly over the music. “How long are you going to mope? Elphias will keep pestering you to get back with him, till you find another boyfriend; I know from experience.”

It was lucky that Emmeline couldn’t hear my snort, or she’d have probably flung her slipper at me.

“I’m not good at relationships, Emmeline,” said Lily, looking dejected. “I’ve already had three serious boyfriends, and plenty of trivial dates, but none of them have ever materialized. Adam Bede went cheating on me, Gilbert Stone found me far too dull, and Elphias thought I was unfaithful. I’m quite disillusioned with boys right now. Maybe its me, maybe I’m not fit for romance.”

“Nonsense!” said Emmeline, waving a hand at Lily. “You just haven’t found Mr. Right, that’s all.”

“I’m starting to think he doesn’t exist for me,” said Lily, squirming.

“I know a boy who’d be willing to give up his life for you, if you but asked for it,” said Emmeline. “He would –“

I’d edged closer at this piece of information, but suddenly Lily stood up with such a shout of anger that I nearly fell down from my crib.

“Give it up, Emm!” shouted Lily, her green eyes fiercely dilated. “ I said I don’t want to go dating anymore, and that’s final. I don’t understand why a girl can’t live without a boyfriend! I don’t understand why a girl’s friends refuse to leave her alone, until she has some date by her side. Is a girl only meant for make-up and boys? Can’t a girl have any other priorities in life? Can’t she be happy without a boyfriend? Why are you all after me to get one, then? I’m so sick of boys right now, I don’t want another mistake in my life!”

And with that little tirade, Lily raced out of the dormitory, her ponytail bobbing behind her.

HUNDREDS OF HEAVING HIPPOGRIFFS!

When I had made it my mission to play Matchmaker for Lily, I hadn’t known Lily was so sick of boys. Wasn’t it but two days ago that she was telling Dorcas that she’d like to be loved as well? It seems even Lily can lie at times.

Well, if that’s going to be her outlook in life, its not going to be easy, going groom-hunting. It may have been so in the past, when muggles like Elizabeth Bennet (Lily's favourite fictional character, Merlin-knows-why), Anna Karenina, Priscilla Adams and Isabel Bentley went prancing around in high heels and frilly corsettes, looking pretty and useless.

Nowadays girls would like to be called 'independent', thank you very much. They don't need a man to run their household, they don't like to be mollycoddled, and they definitely don't like to be called the "weaker sex".

Sigh.

It would be so much easier if their sole purpose in life remained marriage.

For men, that is.

And for me.

But then, you can’t blame for her for being disgusted with boys right now. She’s having a real bad patch in her life right now – parents dead, her sister hating her, her grandfather off saving crocodiles in Brazil, her continuous string of bad break-ups…

I must hurry up in this mission of mine; it seems I’m all words and no action. Buck up, Puck. It’s high time you stopped yawning and wrote to your Godmother Hoopoe for advice.

I must be careful about what I write to Godmother; she may not like my kind schemes for Lily. Just use the right amount of flattery, and butter her up --

“Are you going to stop shredding my quilt or not?” shouted Hestia, hopping about on one leg.

Oops! Caught red-handed.

  
**Puck's letter to his Godmother**

**10 a.m. 14th September**

_From:  
Basil Tristan Merlique_

_Lily's Study table_

_Gryffindor Common Room  
_

_Hogwarts_

 

_To:_  
Senora Sassicata Condescata  


_Vampireville, Spooky Hill  
_

_Transylvania_

 

_Respected Godmother Hoopoe_

_I hope this letter finds you in the best of health and spirits. My own, I cannot vouch for, as I'm having a terrible stroke of Dandruff and headache. However, I believe I've shirked my duty of writing to you long enough, and so my illness is hardly an excuse._

_Godmother Hoopoe, I've always had such a great respect for your opinion and your sense of justice. Your virtues are like the sun that shines above me. You are the embodiment of all that is good in this dreary world. You are my matron, my matriarch, and my alma mater. Your beauty is like the Venus, the evening star._

_No wonder my Uncle Gamocana Candescana loved you so dearly._

_I wonder, though. What was it about you that attracted him the most? Was it your pretty smile, or your lovely habits? Did he ever compliment you? Did he compliment you enough to satisfy you? How did you know that he was The Only One for you?_

_People say that Uncle Gamocana Candescana never once wavered in his love for you. And we all know, how men are never 100 faithful. Pray tell Godmother, how did you manage such a stupendous feat so effortlessly?_

_Why you had him completely bamboozled! Absolutely debauched! Totally intoxicated! And your spell lasted till he breathed his last! Thou are a temptress, indeed, Godmother!_

_It’s not easy being a spinster, and it’s so lonely. Besides, whom will I have for company when Lily gets married? I’ve always wished for a lovely little soul mate, who would massage my tiny feet and cook me tasty marshmallow dishes. Someone who’d stroke my feelers, and call me cinnamon-dope…And so, I've decided to settle down._

_Come then, Godmother. Tell us, lesser mortals that we are, some of your invaluable tips. Tell me your “Superhit Formulae of Love and Lust”, those that you often talk about. I've decided to give up my Bachelorhood for good._

_Your fervent worshipper_

_Basil_

  
**Letter from Puck's Godmother Hoopoe**

**3 p.m. 15th September, Thursday**

This heavy packet just arrived at the claws of Frolka the Falcon. And while he's eyeing my wings with his greedy dark eyes, I'm trying to open the packet hurriedly.

Out came a manual titled " _Be a Matchmaker_ ".

Be a Matchmaker? Drat it! How the **_devil_** did the old hag know?

Oh, wait. There's a reply too.

_My Crafty Conniving Godson_  
Don't bother flattering me next time. Just read the manual carefully, and find a good boy for sweet Lily.  
Personally, I think you’re a bit too old for marriage.  
S.S.

Honestly! Does she practise Divination or something? How does she know everything **_all_** the **_bloody_** time?

It’s really annoying; she’s such an insufferable know-it-all. I must look like a complete fool right now….

On the other hand…They have books for this kind of thing? I’m impressed.

OUCH!

That stupid falcon just poked my butt!

****  
15th September, Thursday  


**Passage behind Tapestry of Bojo the Barmy  
**

**Current Activity : Reading Page One of "** _Be a Matchmaker_ **"  
**

**Word of the day : Incunabula (rare book, like the one in my hands)**

DO YOU HAVE WHAT IT TAKES TO BE A MATCHMAKER?

My dear Readers,

Matchmaking is an art which few can attempt. It is not for the idle, but for the idle with brains.

The great traveler Nero writes in his memoirs how Gigolo the Grumpy (winner of the 1714 UGLIEST HAG AWARD) managed to seduce the haughty Veela Princess Nikita, all thanks to the matchmaking skills of his sly butler. Gigolo -- who hadn’t a penny to his name, nor a single smile on his face -- ensnared Nikita so well that he went on to foster twenty-four thousand children with her.

Countless of dating and marriage bureaus have been set up, but do they truly understand the mechanism of mating relations? Can they really boast of an eternal, everlasting match? I ask you, what _do_ they do, except introduce the two members, or provide an escort?

Matchmaking goes deeper than that. _The trick is not to snag a worthy suitor, but to keep him snagged forever._

Now, if you’ll just turn the page, you’ll find a step-by-step instruction guide to matchmaking.

So, what are you waiting for?

If you’re matchmaking for hags, turn to page 2.  


If you’re matchmaking for mermaids, turn to page 3.  


If you’re matchmaking for goblins, turn to page 4.  


If you’re matchmaking for elves, turn to page 5.  


If you’re matchmaking for witches, turn to page 6.  


If you’re matchmaking for giants, sorry.

 

**Page six of “Be a Matchmaker”**

IF YOU WANT TO BE A CUPID, YOU MUST DO RESEARCH!

For every job that must be done, it is necessary to do the optimum level of research-work. This is important for you to understand the complex nature of human relations, and understanding the desires of both parties. _Only a true understanding of these factors holds the true key to an eternal match._

Topic 1 for Research  
Have you ever wondered why girls love reading those mushy romance novels? And they seem to get a great deal of pleasure out of it too, because the publishing houses spend a good 76 of their revenue on such books.Have you ever read such a book? They would be a good way to understanding a girl’s heart.

Topic 2 for Research  
Magazines like _GlamHags_ , _Veritax_ , _Wizwitch_ and _Amoura_ are popular among witches of all ages. In fact, witches follow them almost blindly. For instance, a report in _Amoura_ saying that wizards liked to be stroked all over with dragon hide upped the sales of dragon-products by 36.  
Those magazines are the doorways to the mind of the witch. You need a proper reading of the latest ones.

So, here’s what you need to do.  
Read the top 5 romance bestsellers of last month, and the annual issues of the mentioned magazines.  
Then, record your observations, and match them with ours. Our observations are recorded on the last page of the manual, but be sure not to sneak. Work out your own. This is all part of your training.

**Last Page of the Manual “Be a Matchmaker”**

YOU SNEAKED!

Get to work immediately now.

****  
16th September, Friday  


**The Hogwarts Library  
**

**Current Activity: Scribbling and Making Notes  
**

**Word of the Day : Plagiarism ( stealing from several different authors a.k.a research)**

_**In which Puck does some research** _

Yes, I’m going to follow the manual step-by-step, my Godmother is never wrong about these kinds of things. Who knows she probably used it too?

So here I am, perusing women’s magazines and making notes.

Alright, so I won’t get to rest in Lily’s pocket while she attends her classes, I won’t be able to tease Mrs. Norris, I won’t be able to smash ink pots on James Potter’s head…. But I’m not complaining.  
Its all for a noble cause.

**Puck’s Recordings from the Magazines**

What I read in the _Wizwitch_ Annual Issue:   


10 Different Recipes to cook for an angry husband.  


How to apply for the job of a Cursebreaker.  


How to get rid of a troublesome garden Gnome.  


What I’ve learnt from it:   


Angry husbands should be given cooking-lessons.  


Cursebreakers are homebreakers.  


You should never date a Gnome.

  
What I read in the _Amoura_ Annual Issue:  


The men in the life of the famous actress Sheila Gladstone  


20 different ways to receive a Lovebite  


Corny Pick-up Lines that women love  


What I’ve learnt from it:   


Sheila changes men like clothes.  


A vampire can give you fifty more types of Lovebites. (Is that why vampires are called Forbidden Love?)  


Women dislike terms like “Babe”, “Hottie” and “Wildpot”. Any other kind of compliment will do just fine.

  
What I read in the _Veritax_ Annual Issue:  


Is your boyfriend 100 faithful to you?  


Is flirting evil?  


Ingredients of Firewhiskey revealed  


What I’ve learnt from it:   


A faithful boyfriend should praise his girl’s looks, and abuse every _other_ girl’s looks.  


A girl may flirt all she likes, but never in front of her boyfriend.  


Now I know why Firewhiskey is banned at Hogwarts! (It contains saliva of a newt.)

  
What I read in the _GlamHags_ Annual Issue:  


Sixty kinds of plum shades in sixty kinds of lipstick brands.  


Latest dressrobe designs by Madam Vogue  


Biography of Mira Heathsville who is famous for her fish-lips.  


What I’ve learnt from it:   


A girl should do so much make-up that she feels like a wax-statue.  


Revealing clothes are eye candy for every boy.  


A girl should pout a lot. It signifies that her lips are very kissable.

  
List of Top 5 Romance bestsellers of August.( from Evening Prophet Clip)

_1) Confessions of a Coquette_ by Erudice Updike  


_2) Naked Love_ by Armand Levine  


_3) The Pirates of Timbuktoo_ by Colin Peverell  


_4) Oscar & Twixer_ by Bella Candella  


_5) Madeleine’s Fantasies_ by Madeleine Marchessa

  
Now _where_ am I going to find these bodice-ripper novels? I’m sure Madam Pince will commit suicide before allowing them entry into the Hogwarts Library.

 

**16th September, Friday  
**

**Gryffindor Girls’ Dormitory  
**

**Current Activity : Examining Emmeline’s Closet  
**

**Word of the day : Scum (rubbish Emmeline’s brain)**

_**In which Puck discovers the wonder of bodice-ripper novels**._

I would have thought that tartness and vanity were enough faults to have, but Emmeline the Vain always makes it a point to prove me wrong.

Apparently, the girl was in some sort of hurry (to snog a boy, undoubtedly), and she had left her closet upon. And so, with all the curiosity of a pixie, I peeped into it.

As I had expected, the upper shelf was a mound of cosmetics. Eye shadow, eyecurler, eyeliner, eye cleanser, and false eye lashes…Lipsticks, lip-gloss, lip gels, lip inks, lip lacquers, lip colours…ahem…Even fruit-flavoured ones!

_Chomp. Chomp_.  
Meh! They taste awful, but then I suppose, you never _eat_ them, only apply them.

That’s got to be a thousand shoes in there. One for every date she’s gone on? Or one for every boy she’s dumped? Or one for every dress she owns? Whatever. From now onwards, whenever she displeases me, I’m going to leave my do-do in her shoes. That will teach her!

OODLES OF OOZING ONIONS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

What’s that I see there?

BOOKS!!!!!!!!?????????!!!!!!!!!!???????

Books in Emmeline the Vain’s Closet? Has hell frozen over? Where are the flying pigs? Is Sir Cadogan in love with McGonagall? Has James Potter died?

Who would have thought that Emmeline could be fond of reading? And lots of books, too? Hmm…Lets see what subjects interest her the most….

I really don’t mind books of adventure or mystery or politics…I suppose even Arithmancy is fine. Lily loves such books, especially those on Charmology and Potion-making. But then, Lily likes all kinds of books. She even likes to smell the pages (of the new ones only!) and imagine they come from the bark of pine trees.

Mental, isn’t Lily? Mental, but lovable.

I turned to the book in my hands, and my eyes nearly popped out.

On the cover was a picture of a scantily clad woman with long dark hair, holding out an apple to the man (equally un-clad) at her feet. The cover wouldn’t have been too bad if the woman hadn’t that dagger in her other hand…As for the title of the book, it couldn’t have been more explicit. _Naked love_ by _Armand Levine_ , it said.

So, I’d finally found my source of bodice-ripper novels. Why hadn’t I thought of looking here before?

“What are you doing there, Puck?” came Lily’s voice, clear like a bell. “Are you trying out Emmeline’s perfumes, again?”

I think she might have seen the look of jubilation on my face, which I unsuccessfully tried to mask with an angelic look, for she immediately rushed forward and snatched the book from my hands.

She stared gobsmacked at the book, and then looked at me with wide eyes. For some strange reason, I saw her lip twitching, and then….she suddenly burst out laughing!

“You…you!” she gasped between her gales of laughter. “Oh, Puck! You crack me up! Puck, Puck, Puck! Were you reading this book?”

WHAT? ‘x#@&*X#?#!

“Oh, Puck!” she continued laughing at me. “When did you turn into such a pervert? Oh, my goodness! My little baby’s grown up! He likes reading romance! Oh, wait till Emmeline sees this!”

Grown up? Me? I was probably bigger than her by a whole millennium. Her little baby!

I couldn’t take it anymore. I grabbed the book from her hands, and threw it promptly out of the window. And to make Lily shut up, I even threw one of Emmeline’s shoes at her!

But she only continued laughing; laughing like it was for the last time on earth.

“Oh, Puck!

It was high time I threw the alarm-clock at her. OK. Let me second it with the bottle of talcum powder.

Unfortunately, she dodged them both. “Puck!” she admonished me gently. “I’m not mocking you, don’t be angry. There’s no harm in reading these books, its only natural you should be curious how the heart works. Everyone goes through this phase. We all want love, don’t we? And besides, its high time you found a lovely mate for yourself.”

And then she started laughing again.

Gah! I don’t recall _her_ ever reading such books. What does she mean by “ _everyone goes through this phase_ ”? Huh?

“I can’t wait to host your wedding,” she said, giggling madly. “You’d look lovely in a tuxedo!”

Hmph.  
Try telling that to my Godmother Hoopoe.

 

**16th September, Friday**

**The Hogwarts Kitchen Larder**  


**Current Activity : Scribbling & Making Notes again  
**

**Word of the Day : X (Readable), XX ( Forgettable), XXX (Avoidable)**

So here I am, up in the official larder of the Hogwarts Kitchen, with special permission from the House-elves, and a stack of books borrowed from Emmeline The Vain’s closet.

The larder is always a good place to repose, because its peaceful and has a ready supply of marshmallows and chocolate cake.

And I also have a king-sized bottle of lemonade by my side, with a long straw and lots of marmalade-flakes.

Oh yeah. I’m having a whale of a time.

Lily’s busy with her Charms Club sessions, so I’m not so worried about her right now. Otherwise…well, we all know it’s a full time job looking after her.

****  
Book Number 1  


**Name:** Confessions of a Coquette  


**Author** : Erudice Updike  


**Book summary:**   


About a girl who flirts atrociously with every man to move up in her life, only to die as a rich, but crusty, dissatisfied old maid.  


**Excerpts:**  


_The man across the street was staring at me quite shamelessly. He was old, bald and had a massive paunch. But he was standing beside a huge, stylish limousine. So I did what any other girl would have done. I winked and blew a kiss at him._

_He turned out to be the chauffeur._

_Maybe if I told him that I really liked his tie, would he buy a similar one for my father?_

_Honestly, the way his wife is eyeing us…She looks like a dragon, no wonder Mr. Gavarochi has nightmares about her._

“ _Charles,” I purred, “you know what’s the only thing in the whole world that can match your sparkling white teeth? A set of diamond jewellery for me.”_  


**My observations:**   


#1) My Lily must never die an old maid. I want to match-make for her green-eyed grandchildren too, you know.  


#2) I hope this story is not meant for me, as I don’t flirt.  


#3) Flirting is a must for every girl, up to _some_ slight degree at least.  


#4) Witches like diamond jewellery, while wizards like ties.  


#5) Appearances can be very deceptive. A man is never who you think he is.  


**Rating: XXX**

****  
Book Number 2  


**Name:** The Pirates of Timbuktoo  


**Author** : Colin Peverell  


**Book summary:**   


About a pirate who falls in love with the girl he kidnaps (for which he is disowned by his Chieftain) and then starts a canary farm for shooting practice.  


**Excerpts:**  


_Black-hearted Dick dragged the fair maiden by the wrist to the captain’s cave. A bottle of firewhiskey stood at the Captain’s right hand and he slipped a mask over his eyes immediately. The captain smiled a sinister sign, twirling his long black moustache._  
“ _Unhand the maiden, dog,” he said.  
Then he swept her a stately bow._  
“ _Fair maid,” he said, “unless thy father bring me sixty thousand galleons tonight, thy doom is sealed. Thou shalt swing from yon lone pine-tree!”  
The maiden gave a piercing scream. Then she looked closely at the masked face._  
“ _Who-who art thou?” she faltered.  
Again the captain’s smile faltered beneath the mask._  
“ _Rudolph of the Red Hand,” he said._  
At these terrible words the maiden swooned into the arms of Black-hearted Dick.  


**My observations:**   


#1) Kidnapping seems an easy and wholly delightful way of earning money.  


#2) A girl should always be a damsel in distress, waiting for her knight-in-shining-armour. Otherwise, the knight will feel insulted.  


#3) Colin Peverell is a nincompoop who should know that pirates don’t exist in Timbuktoo because it is a mainland, not a sea.  


**Rating: X**

****  
Book Number 3 **  
**

**Name:** Oscar & Twixer  


**Author** : Bella Candella  


**Book summary:**   


About a man called Oscar who falls in love with a slag called Twixer who has been married and divorced a total of 15 times.  


**Excerpts:**  


_With a swing of his mighty arms, Oscar lifted her right off her feet, crushing her to his chest. With a deep sigh, she yielded her lips to him in such a kiss as he had never dreamed of—_

_So ravishing was her beauty, the intoxication of her was so great, that strong wizards went down before her like ninepins and deflated Quaffles, helpless with love_.  


**My observations:**   


I picked up the book again and read the description of the proud Twixer McDuff (she who had yielded her lips).  
Somehow, I couldn’t picture the voluptuous Twixer, with her red lips and her swaying form, tamely sewing on buttons, say, for the horny Oscar. It just didn’t seem possible to think of her as a tame housewife feeding hens and baking cookies. And yet, the author says that Oscar  & Twixer went on to have a long life of domestic felicity!  
Get a grip, Candella.  


**Rating: XX**

 

**Book Number 4** **  
**

**Name:** Madeleine’s Fantasies  


**Author** : Madeleine Marchessa  


**Book summary:**   


About the fantasies of a bored rich girl for torturing her tutor, her boss, her boyfriend, her best friend, her fiancé and her husband – all for the sole reason that they were men and they took her for granted.  


**Excerpts:**  


_She threw him against the wall, hard. Then she stuck him with a whip, hard. Then she struck him again, harder this time. So he responded by kissing her. Hard._

_She had poured paint all over his best Sunday suit and she had donated his broomstick-collection to the Construction Committee. But the stupid bloke just wouldn’t accept his mistakes and apologize!_

_How dare Sam tell her that she “looked pretty today”? Didn’t she ALWAYS look pretty? Men!_  


**My observations:**   


I should have thought that reading Madeleine’s _novel_ would have been torture enough for all six men in her life. Pity she decided to use her whip and her wand.  
This book should have been named Madeleine’s _Malady_ , not Madeleine’s _Fantasies_. This woman has major issues; she can’t even accept she needs a shrink!  
And this entire hullabaloo just because she suffers from Kappakappa syndrome i.e. a desire to quarrel!  


**Rating: XXX**

****  
Book Number 5  


**Name:** Naked Love  


**Author** : Armand Levine  


**Book summary:**   


About a man who falls in love with a dark wizard’s wife, and is strangled 56 times by her pet python (though the cover shows a dagger).  


**Excerpts:**  


_Desire had him firmly in its grasp. With frenzied fingers he tore off the fragile chiffon of her dress and forced her down on the shoe-stand._

“ _So what if I couldn’t kill him today, I’ll kill him tomorrow again.”_

_He weighed about forty-six tons, had red eyes and looked extremely regal._  


**My observations:**   


#1) Number of times the word “passionate” has been used is 122  


#2) Never take a python for a walk.  


#3) Never fall in love with a dark wizard’s wife.  


#4) Try again and again until you succeed.  


**Rating: XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

 

Where’s the paperbag, quick! I feel nauseous to the core. I hope Lily won’t mind if I vomit into her lovely handkerchief.

I’ve just completed the fifth book, and believe me, I feel like Hercules right now. To think I’ve been burning midnight oil for this kind of stuff, when I could be doing so many better things. Like crashing armours in the corridors. Or pouring earwax over Mrs. Norris.

All bosh, this sort of stuff. And a fat lot of help all these observations are. If this is the true nature of a woman’s mind……Oh _Merlin_ , I can’t even think about it…..

Some of the pictures in those magazines, they’re making me belch even now. Maybe I’m conservative, maybe I’m old-fashioned; but don’t they say that “old is gold”?

I’m infinitely glad that Lily rarely buys such magazines; I can’t imagine her pouting and flirting and owning pet pythons. Lily has far too much common sense to do that.

What do these authors think of the witching kind? That they have hay in their heads, and hot air in their hearts? That they melt at the very mention of passion and chocolate? That women read any kind of rubbish that comes their way?

I have nothing against romance, why I’m the master of it. Females flock to me like moths to a flame, or like bees to a Summoning Charm. All I’m saying is that what the modern witches need is a good sensible reality-based love-story. Not a book which is a wastage of paper and time. And good ole lemonade.

Once this matchmaking business is over, I’m going to try my hand at writing. And I bet I can topple J. K. Rowling’s records in a single day!

**  
16th September, Friday**

**Under Lily’s Bed**  


**Current Activity : Matching my Observations with those in the manual  
**

**Word of the Day : Contrite (ashamed, as I am of observations)**

It seems I don’t have the makings of a matchmaker within me. Because somehow, all my observations seem to be completely different from those in the manual “Be a Matchmaker”.

Here take a look at PAGE EIGHT OF “BE A MATCHMAKER”

_By now, you must have completed your tasks and recorded your observations._

_Professor Elektra, the famous psychoanalyst, has helped us compile the following inferences for a proper understanding of what women want._

“ _Women do not seek entertainment from romance novels, but only the “idea” of love. It is because love is like a delicate, delicate rose which all witches desire to smell._ _The purpose behind reading such books is to feed women’s belief in love and matrimony, and the wonder of men in general._

_Men nowadays believe that showing love is a weakness. They have the false impression that only wimps and ninnies are foolish enough to express their love in words. That is why they take their women for granted, trusting that their wives and girlfriends can read their hearts without help from them._

_Men must be told that love is a delicate, delicate thread which must not be broken. They must be taught how to cherish their partners._

_A real man loves his wife, and shows his love for her in a thousand different ways each day._

_The purpose of all make-up, flirting and wearing lovely dresses stems for our desire of others’ appreciation. It is the law of all nature. Women love to be praised, for in truth, they are praised too little. From household chores, to managing children and performing office-work, women do it all….and in return, what do they get? Not even a thank-you. Years and years of starvation for respect and love has made them quite desperate, you know._

_A woman’s love is like a delicate, delicate cloud that dreams of the skies and waters the earth. We must look up to it, for it is what makes life worth living._

_It is time we gave our women a chance to rise from their downtrodden states to a life of love and felicity. They truly deserve that. Hats off to our women!”_

_Now that you’ve read Professor Elektra’s inference, what do you think of your own one? Have you understood the importance of women in your life? Have you realized how special they are?_

Riiiiiiiiiiiiight.

That made SUCH a lot of sense.

So love is like a rose. Then it is like a thread. And then it’s like a cloud. Lets not forget it’s delicate, too.

And all this information from a handful of magazines and books? These psychoanalysts are real **geniuses**.

I mean, who would have known that women like to be loved and respected? That women are special to us all? (OY Elektra! No wonder you’ve been employed as a window-cleaner in Hogsmeade these past five years.). Who on earth knew?

All the same, I’ve one long road ahead of me. I have to not only find a suitable mate for Lily, but I must also make sure that he loves and respects her for all eternity.

Someone who won’t cheat on her like Adam Bede, bore her like Gilbert Stone or hound her like Elphias Doge.

All this work, and I’m back at Square One.

Like I said before, I’ve one long road ahead of me.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

There. A new chapter posted. This one is for all the women out there, a bit late from March 8th, but the intentions are sincere. Here’s to celebrating the glory of womankind.  
I know there’s not much plot-development in here, but prepare yourself for some Marauder Mayhem in the next chapter. Lots of fluff to follow. Just hang on there.  
If you’ve read this story and you’ve LIKED it, just write the word **YES!** In the Reviews page, and I’ll be eternally grateful. How much time does it take? Please?  
Dr. Fawkes

 


	7. Surrender

** CHAPTER SEVEN: SURRENDER **

 

**17th September, Saturday**

**Hovering near Lily's Bedside Mirror**

**Current Activity : Whistling at the top of my voice  
**

**Word of the day : Quixotic (Puzzling, such as Lily’s strange mutterings)**

_**In which Puck is worried about himself.** _

   
Have you ever seen a shower of rose petals, cascading upon the unworthy earth beneath your feet? Have you ever seen scarlet fire, dancing a reel upon snow-covered mountaintops? Have you ever seen the last golden rays of the sunset touching the horizon?

Lily’s hair looks just as beautiful. Today she’s left it loose, and she’s combing it with a faraway look in her eyes, as if she can see anything but the mirror in front of her.

“What am I afraid of?” she said suddenly, startling me out of my reverie. I honestly cannot make out what she means by that. This has somehow become the first sentence she speaks every morning, for the past one week.

“Should I take the leap?” she said again, putting down her comb.

I scratched my chin in utter confusion. What the **devil** is she on about?

There’s another thing that’s been troubling me for the past two weeks. My third feeler-- the feeler which acts as a _legilimens_ \-- has a numbness in it….A numbness which makes it impossible for me to use it. You see, my feeler is not working properly. And although I can gauge Lily’s _emotions_ , I’m not able to read her _thoughts._ And this is really bugging me.

Normally, when I’m around Lily, I don’t have much need of the blasted feeler, because Lily is as transparent to read as water. She never hides her feelings from me, she rarely lies, and she’s definitely not a hypocrite. Besides, I know her well enough to understand every meaning behind every action of hers. That is why I never have to employ _legilimency_ against her.

But these quixotic comments of hers, sprung on me out of the blue, are getting on my nerves. As I can’t read her mind anymore, I have to compensate for it by poking her incessantly about them. But she merely gives me a smile, just as quixotic as her words, and shakes her long slender forefinger at me.

I’m much too ashamed of my past letter to write another one to my Godmother Hoopoe. But losing my miraculous powers is no laughing matter. I don’t know what I’m going to do about this…

“Do you like my earrings, Puck?” she asked me, fingering the emerald orbs carefully, as if afraid that they would break.

I shrugged my shoulders in dismay. How was I going to tell her that those earrings belonged to Emmeline, and that her secret admirer was a kleptomaniac?

But wait a minute.

Lily has seen Emmeline wearing those earrings countless number of times! Doesn’t Lily realize that she should be returning them to their dratted owner?

WHY isn't Lily returning those earrings to Emma? Is it because Emma took her blue sweater & hasn't returned it? Or is it because of the fight the two girls had the other day?

Or is it because even my sweet Lily's noble heart has been corrupted by ornament lust?

Lily! Lily! Lily!

Poor girl, she seldom receives such grand gifts, you know. You can’t blame her for getting greedy over them.

I suppose I should forgive her for such a trivial sin.

****  
17th September, Saturday  


**Breakfast in the Great Hall  
**

**Current Activity : Sampling a Hot Scone**

_**In which Puck is dutiful but displeased.** _

   
Today is a holiday, and so Lily’s up much earlier than she is on weekdays.

Sensible, isn’t she?

Why, if I had my way, I’d sleep and sleep and sleep, and not even rumours of Potter kissing Lily would wake me up. _That’s_ what weekends are for.

It’s downright depressing to see her sit here all alone. I mean I know I’m a very good companion to have at all times, but seriously.

Lily’s sitting here all alone, with no one to talk to. That’s another reason why I should find her a boyfriend as soon as possible.

Ah. My prayers have been heard.

“Hey Lily!” greeted Remus Lupin warmly, taking the empty seat by her. “What’s the matter? You look all burnt out.”

Remus Lupin, I can safely say, is one of the most understanding and intelligent students at Hogwarts. Very intellectual, that one. And he’s the only one in this school who can match Lily’s mental wavelength.

He isn’t too ugly either, with his sandy brown hair, and kind brown eyes. _So what_ if his hair is already streaked by grays; it looks as if he’s just highlighted his hair.

“I’m just tired of all the work that McGonagall has plastered on my list,” said Lily, sighing. “What with the late-night patrols and Filch’s endless complaints, I’m beginning to wish I’d never been chosen as the Headgirl.”

“Don’t you even dare wishing something like that,” said Remus, shaking his head at her. “I can’t imagine anyone but you as the Headgirl. But speaking of hall patrols….Erm, do you think I can skive off duty on the 21st? We are patrol partners that night.”

Lily looked at him with her eyebrows raised, and a slight smile.

“On the 21st?” she repeated delicately.

Remus scowled at her, as if surprised she could be so dense. “It’s the full moon, and you’ve always known what happens on the full moon,” he snapped irritably at her.

I suppose lycanthropy gives people the right to snap and be rude to others?

“The 21st of September is a lunar eclipse, Remus,” she said, looking down into her plate.

Remus spluttered at her dumbfounded. " What-how-are you-I mean-"

"I'm in Astronomy Class, remember?" she said.

He and I both stared at her for a few moments, letting the warmth of her smile wash over us like a Soothing Potion.

“Ahem,” someone cleared his throat behind us. “We’re not interrupting, are we?” said one Sirius Black, as he plopped unceremoniously into a seat to the left of Lily, without invitation.

Yes, Black. You DO interrupt. You DO irritate. You DO lack manners. Any other questions lurking in your mind?

I wouldn’t have minded Black so much, if he hadn’t brought along his friend James Potter, his partner-in-crime. Honestly, those two are attached at the hip. Quite the double act!

James Potter was staring to and fro between Lily and Remus, as if suspicious that they were conspiring for his murder (Sigh! If only that was possible!).

“I’m not in the mood for more jokes about chickens,” said Lily tiredly, meeting Potter’s glance with a strange kind of defiance.

I'm sure, Reader, that you’re quite impressed with how I’ve managed to restrain Lily from moving into the Heads Chamber? It’s pretty simple, really.

#1) My Dandruff problems have been a good excuse to keep Lily busy all this while. I keep asking her to shampoo my hair, or oil my hair, or take my temperature, or sing me a lullaby, or make Serenity Potions (Bah!) for me, or knit me caps and socks.

#2) I keep hiding her stuff, for which she keeps on searching and searching and searching. Like her homework, or keys, or shoes, or dress robes, or quills. Good way to keep her busy all round the clock, huh? They do say, “An idle mind is a devil’s workshop.”

#3) Petunia’s letter has been reason enough for her to mope all day, and forget all her anger against Potter in lieu of her misery. So, in a way I’m thankful for Petunia’s letter.

#4) I suspect Lily thinks that her secret admirer won’t be able to write to her if she moves into the Heads Chamber. Or that he’d be extremely jealous of Potter, and that would just break his poor little kleptomaniac heart.

Do I need to elucidate anymore?

Potter said nothing, and continued to shove pyramids of toast onto his plate. For some reason, he looked very strained, as if he was resisting something that threatened to overcome him any second now.

He was probably afraid of me.

It’s hard not to be. Heh. Heh. Heh.

“So, Lilea,” said Sirius, pulling out some sort of crooked fork from his robe-pocket. “I need your help with something.”

Dream on, Black. And while you’re at it, why don’t you use the fork to stab your best friend?

“Lilea?” my mistress questioned, her elegant eyebrows raised again.

“Lilea de Cardin,” announced Sirius Black with something akin to a smirk, “was a famous artist who pioneered the tradition of Artists’ Annals.”

Lily suddenly had a massive bout of coughing and wheezing, splattering the dinner table with her pumpkin juice.

“You thought we wouldn’t find out?” asked Peter Pettigrew, who was standing behind us, yawning so loudly that you could see that you could see the entire universe between his two chubby cheeks. “You thought we wouldn’t find out that this year’s award-winner is Lily Gabrielle Evans?”

Well, Peter, that _is_ what she’d thought, and hoped for as well. A fact that had irked me night and day. You see, Lily hates publicity of any kind; she hates being in the spotlight. If she had her way, she’d probably encyst herself in a shell, and never come out. She likes burying her talents, thank you very much. She wasn’t like this before, but it all changed last summer.

I suspect Petunia’s flamboyant criticism and her survivor’s guilt have done something dreadful to her self-respect.

And therefore, I’m glad that someone apart from Lily’s secret admirer and me knows about this achievement for hers. Even though it’s the mayhem-making Marauders.

“How did you guys know about that?” asked Lily finally, blushing like anything.

“My mother works at the London office of Artists’ Annals,” said Peter, blowing into his handkerchief, and wiggling his nose like a rat afterwards. I wonder what is it about Peter Pettigrew that makes Lily say that I look like him? Because, I’d just _love_ to disagree.

“Belated congratulations, Lily,” said James Potter in a tight, nonchalant voice.

Stupid prat! If he’d already known that Lily had won the award, why didn’t he congratulate her before? Belated congratulations are no congratulations, at all.

“You said you wanted my help,” said Lily, ignoring Potter and looking sideways at Sirius.

Sirius was unfazed by this abrupt change in the topic. Indeed, he seemed to have expected it.

“As you’re aware, I’m a proud member of the Muggle Studies Elite group,” said Sirius, alight with glee.

Yes, Black. Of course, we’re all aware of your favourite subject. Considering that you give free lectures on the topics of electricity, coffee machines and motorbikes every Sunday to all who’d care to listen.

“Continue,” said Lily.

“I need your help in making the circuit of an air-conditioner,” said Sirius, looking very hopeful and handsome.

Air conditioner? The muggle eklektic device whose blades I’ve often broken? The device that causes much pollution and makes me nostalgic about the Swiss Alps?

Potter, who had hardly looked up from his breakfast (the glutton!) all this time, snorted loudly. “Give up, Padfoot,” he said. “You can’t do it.”

Sirius glared at his best friend. “You’re not the only one who’s got an ‘Outstanding’ in Muggle Studies, you know. _I’m_ one of the Elite as well.”

_FIFTY-FIVE FLIP-FLOPPING FLAMINGOES!_

Potter got an OUTSTANDING in Muggle Sudies?

Yeah, right.

I suppose he plays the bagpipes, too?

“I’ll help you,” said Lily, loudly, and Sirius looked at her with a fondness I hadn’t seen in years. “But I have a condition.”

Remus chuckled merrily. “All the world’s but give-and-take.”

“You must surrender those Fart-bombs to Filch,” said Lily, trying and failing to look stern.

The Marauders burst out laughing.

“And is that all?” asked Sirius with a dramatic clutch at his heart, “You could’ve asked me for my life, and I wouldn’t have said no.”

Lily frowned at him in surprise. “I’ll save that request for better times,” she said, the corners of her lips twitching. “So, Wednesday at eight suit you?”

Sirius nodded his head vigorously. “Deal,” he said.

Potter was now busy eyeing Sirius with a murderous look, a look that made him appear very much like a Chimaera, but Sirius only winked at him. There was something going on that I couldn’t quite catch….

“So, where’s the rest of your gang?” asked Remus, taking a sip out of his tumbler.

“Oh, busy here and there,” said Lily, trying to look unconcerned.

Hmph.

Being busy means that—

#1) Hestia Jones will be snoring into her pillows all day  
#2) Jane will be catching dragonflies with her brother all day  
#3) Emmeline Vance will be dating all day.

But I’m sure you must have guessed that by now.

“So you’re left all alone?” blurted Peter, and immediately looked apologetic.

“No, Peter,” said Lily, smiling at him. “Just left single.”

Not single too long, if I can help it.

There was a clatter, as Potter’s goblet fell to the floor, and rolled away.

If only had a bloody camera, I’d have captured Potter’s face in a flash. He looked electrified for some reason, his hair covered in tatters of his muffin (Don’t ask me how), and his shirt drenched with juice. Oh, yes. Such a photograph would have been a toothsome delight for my darling Lily’s grandchildren.

Let me make the picture complete.  
Let me paste the marmalade on Potter’s baboonish face.

“PUCK!”

****  
17th September, Saturday  


**Peacock Street, Hogsmeade  
**

**Current Activity : Strolling with Lily in Peacock Street  
**

**Word of the day : Crab (Hard outside, soft inside McGonagall)**

_**In which Puck pinches McGonagall’s arm.** _

   
One day when I become rich and famous, I’m going to erect my own statue in the middle of Hogsmeade and call it Puck’s Street.

Meanwhile, I have to tread along a silent, dilapidated road that’s been named after a peacock, just because all the buildings around here have been painted blue.

I was enjoying the rich smell of the freshly soaked earth, and humming a fairy folk tune, when Lily said to me—

“Puck, did you know that Amelia Bones too wants to join the Department of Mysteries? She’s interested in doing research as well, just like me. She asked me yesterday if we could have a small study-group of our own…. I said I’d think about it. What’s your opinion?”

I twirled about in the air, which meant, “I dunno, Lily. You could give it a try.”

Lily nodded. “Yes, Amelia seems a nice girl. And though she’s a sixth-year, she knows more than me already.”

Know more than Lily? Know more than the girl who can differentiate between the Fortuestia and Parageina Schools of Magical Philosophy?

Stuff and nonsense, I say.

“Say, Puck,” she said, “Isn’t that Professor McGonagall over there?”

If I hadn’t been such a smart observant pixie, I could never have made out that the bundle of gingham seated on the street-bench was Minerva McGonagall.

_Who_ is Minerva McGonagall, you ask?

She’s a thin and tall authoritarian with a tight bun of hair and a long pointed forefinger, who believes it’s more important to be pleased than to please. And did I also add that she has absolutely no lips and a heart of stone?

No, I don’t like her much. Even though she _is_ the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts.

She’s barely taught ten years here, but she behaves as if she owns the place. She is always suspicious of me, and eyes me as if I was some sort of alien from outer space. She never remembers my name, and exclaims wonder that a sweet girl like Lily should own a ‘sinister pet’ like me. Lets not forget the fact that she’s given me 2385 detentions (locking me up in a closet) by now -- a ‘punishment’ with which Lily heartily agrees.

And so, when I saw that she was sobbing bitterly on a bench in a deserted locality, I hardly felt any compassion for her. She rarely paid attention to _my_ sobs during the detentions, when I repeatedly tried to tell her that I couldn’t possibly live through 12 hours without seeing my dear Lily.

“Umm, Professor?” said Lily timidly, putting a gentle hand on McGonagall’s shoulder. “Are you all right?”

McGonagall looked up, her cheeks patched and her eyes all blotchy. Indeed, she looked but a ghostly shadow of her former self.

“Oh, hello Lily,” said McGonagall, taking a mad swipe at her crocodile tears. “How are you, dear? Taking a stroll, are you? I see you’ve brought Pookey along, too.”

PUCK, by thunder, Malicia McDonagall! The name’s PUCK! Not POOKEY!

Lily said nothing, but kept looking at the old demon with something like a “You can’t fool me” look.

“Lovely day, isn’t it?” tried McGonagall again.

“Not for all of us, Professor,” said Lily, and McGonagall broke into a fresh surge of tears.

I was under the impression that age makes you stronger and makes you immune to tears. But here, the case is entirely different. Minerva McGonagall, who is older than Lily by half-a-century, is being comforted by her student.

Fiddle Dee and Fiddle Dum.

Lily never murmurs such cooing words into _my_ ears.

“Shhh, Professor,” said Lily, gently stroking McGonagall’s rough, fizzy hair. “Its OK to show feelings once in a while…. After all, you’re human, too. Whatever it is that’s troubling you, it won’t last. You’ll see, everything will work out just fine.”

McGonagall recoiled with a vehement shudder. “I’m not human! I’m…. I’m made of stone! I’m a terrible, terrible person!’

Now, now McGonagall…Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re not made of stone; you’re just made of ice.

“Who has been filling such nonsense in your head?” asked Lily, her eyes flashing dangerously. “Has someone hurt you? Did—“

“I’m only saying what everyone else does,” said McGonagall, shaking her head like an eight-year old girl, her hair-bun askew.

She’s only repeating what others say? So, McGonagall’s a parrot? Interesting. I thought her Animagus was a cat.

“All the students curse me for being so strict with them,” said McGonagall. “They curse me for giving them so much homework, they curse me for the way I look, they curse me for giving them detentions. They call me ‘The Beast’ behind my back. I heard a group of them talking about me today. None of the students seem to like me.”

Well, I can’t say they were very far from the truth. But they were probably Slytherins, anyway.

“ _I_ like you,” said Lily sincerely, and McGonagall gave her a disparaging look.

“Look, Professor, a couple of students don’t make up the entire school! Why, not even Professor Dumbledore has universal appeal!  
You may be a bit strict; but you’re the most honest and just teacher in the entire school. Your sense of fairness, your law-abiding attributes--- they are the reason why you’re the Deputy Headmistress of a great school like Hogwarts.  
And as for you being a Beast, well, that’s just bollocks! Nothing can be further from the truth.”

“But all the students…they seem to be so afraid of me,” said McGonagall, sniffing.

Lily shook her head. “They’re not _afraid_ of you, Professor, they are _in awe_ of you.”

I’m not sure whether McGonagall smiled or not; her lips looked less thin, anyway.

“You must think I’m so silly?” said McGonagall. “Crying like this for such a paltry reason….”

“Not at all, “ said Lily. “I had an intuition that the cause was something like this. Nothing else could upset a strong person like you. Actually, you remind me of my Grandmother. She too was of the Cancer sun sign, just like a crab. Stern and upright outside, but with a soft, kind interior.”

“Now that’s a very nice thing to say,” said McGonagall, taking a hold of Lily’s hands.

“It’s the truth,” said Lily, now smiling.

“Thank you, dear,” said McGonagall, patting Lily’s chin. “Your words meant a lot to me. But are you quite sure you didn’t say them just to flatter me?”

“What will I get out of flattering you, Professor?” asked Lily, giving a wide smile. “I know you’re not gong to examine my NEWTs.”

Cheeky, isn’t she? Yep, that’s my Lily.

Even McGonagall burst out laughing. “That reminds me, though. I’ve to discuss the Career Counseling Classes with James and you. I’d put up the schedule on the Notice Board of the Heads Chamber. Did you see it?”

Uh. Oh.

Lily squirmed uneasily. “Er, Professor,” she mumbled. “Umm…I’m not residing in the Heads Chamber, but in the seventh year girls’ dormitory—“

“I see,” said McGonagall, raising her hand. Already so soon, she was back to her Closed Clam Mode.  
"I’m well aware that you and Mr. Potter don’t get along very well, but this is the height of immaturity! I don’t care what excuses you may have. The fact remains that you’re the Headgirl, and the Headgirl must stay in the Heads Chamber. It has been so in the past, and it must remain that way. You will shift to your proper room at once, Miss Evans.”

I hope you registered the renewed use of Lily’s surname.

“But Professor….” Began Lily. “This is the last year—“

McGonagall cut her off again. “ Make sure you’re there when I come to check the next morning. By the way, your Puckipsie ran off with Professor Flitwick’s walking stick again. Tell him to give it back.”

My name is PUCK!

PUCK! PUCK! PUCK!

Not Pookey or Puckipsie or Puckadoodle or Peckingie or Poopie or any other name that you may deign to invent!

I don’t care what Lily’s shouting at me! I don’t care what embarrassment this may cause her!

I cannot possibly forgive McGonagall for commanding Lily to move in with that Potter!

I’m just going to pinch McGonagall so hard that she’s going to carry this bruise for the rest of her crabbish life.

****  
17th September, Saturday  


**Gryffindor Common Room  
**

**Current Activity : Shaking with rage**

_**In which Lily scolds Puck.** _

   
“I hope you’re ashamed of yourself!” Lily was rebuking me. “Why must you make a public spectacle out of me everywhere I go? You completely ruin my reputation! You tease Mrs. Norris. You hang out with Peeves. You fling plates and books at anyone who annoys you for the slightest of reasons. You pester the teachers, you’re constantly harassing James Potter—“

“Someone mention my name?” said James Potter, emerging from behind the armchair near the fireplace.

“You!” cried out Lily, flushing to the roots of her hair, and resembling an over-ripe tomato. “I thought you were still in Hogsmeade!”

“Hogwarts has many secret passages,” said the relentless Potter, shrugging casually.

I had a feeling that the word “unfortunately” was hanging in the air.

“So, Lily?” said Potter, again, when Lily had resumed glowering at me. “Ready to march to the Heads Chamber? Or have you forgotten my challenge? It’s been over two weeks now. But I'm sure, McGonagall's orders can never go unheeded.”

Lily clamped her eyes shut, but Potter remained oblivious to her displeasure.

“Remember to pack your mothball’s socks as well, “ he said, chortling.

COAGULATING CAULDRONS OF CLIODNA!

Did he just call me a MOTHBALL? You SNITWIT! DIMWIT! NITWIT!

I demand an apology, you hear that Potter? An APOLOGY, do you hear?

My fury already at a temperature of 367 degrees, I charged at him to pinch his nose. But alas! He caught me by the scruff of my neck, and flung me away rolling.

“Merlin’s beard, Lily!” he said, as Lily rushed over to pick up my exhausted body from the other side of the room. “Even a bludger’s more difficult to dodge than your little buddy!”

First he compares me to an IMP, then to a MOTHBALL, and now a BLUDGER?

_What am I going to do with you, POTTER?_

All right, tyrant, all right… It’s your time now.  
Call me names, mock me as you like, but I and nobody else will have the last laugh.

****  
17th September, Saturday  


**Gryffindor Girls Dormitory  
**

**Current Activity : Fuming in cold silence**

_**In which Puck abandons her whom he loves best.** _

   
I’m still waiting for Lily to apologize to me. Why should she apologize to me?

#1) She scolded me.  
#2) She scolded me for harassing James Potter.  
#3) She scolded me in Potter’s presence.  
#4) She didn’t fight with McGonagall for ordering her to move in with Potter.  
#5) She didn’t fight with Potter for insulting me.

But _is_ Lily ashamed of her behaviour towards me? Not one whit.

She’s only interested in fiddling with her Head Girl badge.

That’s the eighth time she’s pinned it on. Only to unpin it again!

_Nine_. Pins. Unpins.  
_Ten_. Pins. Unpins.  
_Eleven_. Pins. Unpins.

What the devil does she think she’s doing?

I can’t even take that badge and stomp on it, because its been cursed with the Intruderblast Jinx.

“Ouch!” she exclaimed, apparently having pricked her thumb.

DOODLES ON DANGLING DIAPERS!

I can’t even stay angry with the girl for long. One little scratch on her lovely skin, and I just melt! Why am I so stupid?

So, instead of ignoring her and chucking stuff at her, I’m sucking her thumb.

“ Oh, Merlin!” she said. “What am I going to do, Puck? Should I move into the Heads Chamber? Will that be wise? But then there’s Potter too…. And if I don’t move in, McGonagall will know. And when McGonagall knows, she’ll be angry. Oh whatever should I do?”

No, no. Say NO, Lily. Say NO. It comes so naturally to you.

Say NO, Lily.

I’m begging you on my bended knees.

She slumped to the bed, looking completely devastated.

“There’s no way out,” she said miserably. “I WILL have to shift to the Heads Chamber. I cannot escape it. I MUST take the leap.”

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

I grabbed my ears, trying to block the sound of Lily’s downfall.

“Yes, I must,” said Lily emphatically.

I reacted in only one way possible. I threw her shoebox at her, followed by the pillow, the Transfiguration Book, the calendar and the painting-kit.

_Fine! Fine, be obstinate! Go to HEADS ROOM, go to BLOODY TOWER, go to HONOLULU, and go to VLADIVOSTOK, for all I care! But you’ll be on your own, remember! I’m not coming and that’s’ FLAT! And when I say NO, I mean NO!_

And giving her hair a very nasty yank, I raced off.

****  
17th September, Saturday  


**The Astronomy Tower  
**

**Current Activity : Fuming in cold silence  
**

**Word of the night : Jaywalker (careless pedestrian, like James Potter)**

_**In which Puck likes what he hears.** _

   
The last time I had been banished from Lilydom, I had taken refuge in Peeves’ s dingy cobweb-ridden chandelier. And it had given me a severe dandruff problem. So this time, I’m residing in the Astronomy Tower, listening to the constant clashing and clanging of the Bloody _Boring_ Baron. Why Peeves should be afraid of him is a complete mystery to me.

Apparently, the Baron and the other Ghouls of the Astronomy Tower have decided to strike up a band. They have even thought of a name. “The Blood Brigade”, it’s going to be called.  
Don’t ask me why, but they believe that their gramophone record will be the next biggest thing after Chocolate Frogs.  
Hmm…I’m beginning to think that Azkaban would make an ideal holiday spot for me.

Suddenly, I heard a creaking sound, which meant that the door to the Astronomy Tower had been opened.

Curious, I looked down from the top of the flag post.

Woes betide me that those four loons ever took birth.  
The Marauders.  
And their name should be enough to tell you what their only goal in life is.  
Maraudering.

Seeing that unruly mop of hair on James Potter’s head is enough to make me helpless with fury. But this time, I’ll eavesdrop on them to learn what they are up to. They may be hatching a plot to call me further names.

Like Drooping Fruit, or something similar.

For some reason (probably to rub salt on my wounds), James Potter was looking fabulously elated, and was doing an awkward ballet along the rickety railing.

That’s another thing I dislike about him. He has absolutely no sense of responsibility, not even caring for his own life! The dangerous JAYWALKER!

“So, the chicken’s finally given in, huh?” said Sirius Black, laughing at Potter’s childish antics. (Potter gave a loud war hoop here.)

“Well begun is half done, as Professor Vector says,” said Remus, leaning against a nearby wall.

Black snorted loudly. “Fat chance! The way Prongs is always staring at her, it’d be enough to creep anyone out.”

Ha! I _knew_ James Potter was a Cannibal. He stares at every girl, to creep her out. Just like he hexes others and then boils them over toad-slime to make a pickle out of them.

The juvenile delinquent that he is, James Potter shrugged and said, “I can’t help it, you know I can’t. She’s so utterly mesmerizing, its as if an invisible force wants me to imprint her image in my memory forever…And her eyes? Oh, GOD! How is it possible? How can anyone have such _big_ eyes? —“

There was a collective groan at this, and Sirius smacked his forehead, saying, “ And now, my lovesick bard is going to drone on and on about her, till we all faint…”

“You know,” said Peter Pettigrew, looking far too wise for his size, “When I first saw her on the train, it was like some blinding light had met my eyes…. Like a hundred cameras attacking me…She has that effect on people, leaves you completely…what’s the word…umm?”

“Dazzled?” offered Remus gently.

“Yeah!” said Pettigrew, looking quite relieved that Remus, at least, had good vocabulary.

“She’s too nice to be true,” said Sirius Black, shaking his handsome head. “Its almost painful how much she believes in others, how free from malice and ill will she is. Such goodness shouldn’t be allowed to exist; its bound to be shattered sooner or later.”

“She was the first one to find out about my lycanthropy,” said Remus, “and I haven’t forgotten how kind she’s always been to me…. Helping me with her notes and stuff…. Supporting me always….”

“I really, really like her,” said Peter solemnly. “She always helps in my studies.”

“Who _doesn’t_ like that girl?” snapped Sirius. “Very brave, very witty. And I haven’t forgotten how she helped Remus and me reconcile after the Whomping Willow episode.”

Sirius had spoken the Forbidden Words, for though Remus Lupin smiled, there was a bitterness to it that I’d never seen there before.

If I may say so, Remus Lupin has changed greatly over the past one year.

That one night, and it changed his outlook in life completely.

Earlier, it had seemed that he’d put Potter and Sirius on some high unreachable pedestal, which was too sacred to even talk about. But that accursed night, and I still remember Remus’ s words… saying that he’d “ _forgotten Potter and Sirius were human too, after all_.” And saying that even “ _friendship is corruptible_.”

I never want to hear those words again for as long as I live.

“My mother likes her, too,” said Peter, as if that settled the matter. “We couldn’t have chosen better.”

Potter looked an odd combination of a smile and a scowl. “ _We_?” he gasped. “ _We_ couldn’t have chosen better? I’d like to inform you that I don’t wish to share her with either of you.”

Sirius guffawed loudly. “Relax, Prongs,” he said. “None of us can ever dare to go crushing on your girl. We all know what a hard punch you are capable of donating to noble causes—“

Remus burst out laughing, a laugh that sounded too hearty to be real.

“I don’t know why you three accuse _me_ of being so hung up on her, when you’re all obviously doing the same,” grumbled James Potter.

“Well,” said Remus slyly, “at least WE don’t want to snog Lily.”

Lily?

As in… _Lily Evans_?

Have my brains gone radioactive? Have my ears gone noodled?

NOW, it all fits!

James Potter _still_ fancies Lily, and _still_ wants to snog her!

And all this while, I’d been thinking he’d given up on her! Or so he’d said at the beginning of the sixth year in a very loud, obnoxious voice to all who’d care to listen.

Corruption runs in the veins of James Potter. Apart from blood, that is. Why! He’s all lies and deceit, from HEAD to TOE.

OOH LA LA! Now, I’ve got you, James Potter! You BASHI BAZOUK! Now I know just the right way to get back at you for insulting me! You COCKROACH EXCRETA!

He won’t know what hit him. He will RUE the day he ever dared to MOCK ME!

James Potter, you’re going down

Heh. Heh. Heh.

What a shame. He was starting to grow on me.

****  
17th September, Saturday  


**Current Activity : Traipsing to the Headgirl Chamber**

_**In which Puck comes back to Lily.** _

   
I flung open the door to the Headgirl Chamber with all my might, and took my entry with all the grace and attitude of a Monarch Cornish pixie. I was feeling the extent of my powers tonight. I was the Devil, the Death incarnate.

Lily was there by the windowsill, humming the tune of Celestina Warbeck’s “ _A Pocketful of Pixies_ ”. Poor thing, she was probably mourning my loss.

I didn’t make a sound, but perched down on her shoulder, and gave her ear a squeeze.

“So you’ve come back, Puck?” she whispered, taking me into her palm. “And you’ve forgiven me, too?”

I harrumphed, and slashed my tail against her cheek.

_Bah! Did you imagine for a moment that I’d let a young whippersnapper like you go off alone? NOT ON YOUR LIFE! I suppose you think that Captain Puck’s got tomato juice in his veins, eh? NOT ON YOUR LIFE! When I’ve said I’m going to protect you for the rest of your life, it means I will. You can’t get rid of me, ever! NOT ON YOUR LIFE! And when I say YES, I mean YES!_

“I’m glad you’re back, Puck,” said Lily, holding back my tail, so I wouldn’t hit her again.

I’m glad I’m back, Lily.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

  
  
I’m not very pleased with this chapter, b/c I think I wasn’t able to put much humour into it. But I’ve put in fluff to compensate, I guess?

I hope many of your doubts been cleared – lotrqueen451, anna? More will be revealed in due course.

The next chapter will be based on Lily’s first suitor. Can you guess who that will be? It’s a character from the Quidditch Worldcup in the Goblet of Fire. Let your imagination run wild. Tell me who you think it is.

Please review. Or I won’t update for the next 3 months.

Dr. Fawkes


	8. Basil's Bludger Goes Berserk! (PART 1)

**_ BASIL’S BLUDGER GOES BERSERK! (PART 1) _ **

 

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** Header Notes: **

Alright, then. This is going to be my longest chapter ever. So, if you’ve got the attention span of a pixie, I suggest you store this chapter away for a day you have nothing very important or busy to do.

The chapter titled “Basil’s Bludger Goes Berserk” has been split into 2 parts. I hope that won’t cause anyone any confusion. :D

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**6:30 a.m.**

**18th September, Sunday**

**The Head Lounge**

**Current Activity: Watching the sand trickling down in the Hourglass**

**Word of the Day: Quidditch ( a jolly good profession, since Potter doesn’t think so)**

**In which Puck misses his Third Feeler.**

I was waiting for Lily in the Head Lounge (while _she_ was dressing up in the Head Girl’s Chamber), one of my eyes on the Hourglass, and the other on James Potter.

The lazy pile of crocodile shit was reclining on the soft yellow couch, reading The Daily Prophet and drinking a steaming cup of coffee. I wonder why it felt as if the Head Lounge wasn’t Potter’s official headquarters, but rather, his small countryside honeymoon-villa. There was a soft smile on his dastardly lips, which struck me as highly ominous.

“Good Morning, Lily,” said Potter suddenly, as if he had seen Lily enter the Lounge, without even looking up from his newspaper.

“Good Morning,” she said, taking a seat beside Potter and putting down a sheaf of papers on the table.

“You slept in late today,” said Potter. “You’re usually up much earlier than this. Were you very tired last night?”

“A bit,” said Lily, avoiding Potter’s eyes, which were back on her with their customary ferocity. “I was coaxing Puck to return Flitwick’s walking stick, but Puck was very adamant. In the end, I had to threaten him with disownment.”

“Sometimes, that Puck is more trouble than he’s worth,” said Potter, shaking his Paleolithic head.

Hmph. I doubt Potter would be satisfied even if I cut my heart out with a spoon and offered it to him on a silver platter.

Lily shrugged and said, “Maybe that’s why I love him so much. He makes a lovely change in my otherwise boring life.”

True. I’m pretty helpful that way.

Potter raised his bushy eyebrows, and gave Lily another of his mysterious, irritating smiles. “Coffee?” he asked.

He poured her a cup, and she held out her hand to take it, making sure their hands would not touch in the process. But they did; had he moved his at the last moment?

“I thought you didn’t like the Daily Prophet much?” ventured Lily, when Potter had finally decided to return to his paper.

“I don’t,” said Potter, “It’s a disgustingly prejudiced and over hyped newspaper, but it’s not as if I have any other alternative. Times like these, you need to be aware of what’s going on around you.”

You know something, Reader? If Potter hadn’t been such a rude and ugly pervert, he’d have made a very good Head Boy. At least, he’d become a tad more serious this year.

“Did you read about the wizard who killed his muggleborn wife under the _Imperius_ curse?” asked Lily glumly.

“Yes,” said Potter, a ruthless scowl on his face. “Even though I’m not entirely sure that Yaxley _was_ under the Imperius curse and didn’t kill his wife of his own accord, I can only say that _I_ would never want to be in his place.”

… _About the wizard who killed his muggleborn wife under the Imperius curse…_ I _would never want to be in his place…._

So, Potter’s quite sure he’ll marry a pureblood? I knew he was just as blood-obsessed as the rest of them!

An ugly silence hung around in the air, which must have made Lily uneasy, for she was squirming in her seat.

“Did you get the invitation card to Ludo Bagman’s celebratory brunch?” said Potter, pointing towards a ribbon-tied letter on the table.

“Yes,” said Lily. “But he doesn’t mention anywhere what’s the party for. I mean, what’s he celebrating about? Didn’t he just lose a thousand galleons in the Gobstones Contest?”

“Well,” said Potter, “the rumour-mill has it that Bagman’s been selected as a Beater for the Wimbourne Wasps, one of the finest Quidditch teams of Europe. The Wasps have won the League eighteen times, you know.”

“I wonder,” said Lily. “Why did they pick a name like that for their team? _Wasps_ …. Is it because they wish to be as hard-working as wasps or something?”

Oh boy, this girl cracks me up.

Potter chortled. “No, I’m sure they’re not _that_ hard-working! Why, they’re _famous_ for preparing just one night before the match and taking the cup anyway. Its just that one of their Beaters had once set a wasps’ nest flying towards the opposing Chaser…I think it happened during their first match against the Appleby Arrows.”

“Now that you mention it,” said Lily, frowning, “I think I’ve heard Hestia talk about them. She said that the fans of the Wimbourne Wasps traditionally buzz loudly to distract opposing Chasers, when they’re taking penalties.”

Potter guffawed loudly. “Yeah, that’s right.”

“You want to be a Quidditch player too, don’t you?” asked Lily, after a pause.

“I _wanted_ to be a Quidditch player, but not anymore,” said Potter. “I’ve decided to go for Auror training instead. There are some things more important in life than the thrill of a broomstick.”

For example, abusing me and calling me names! Isn’t that right, Potter?

“I want to join the Ministry, too,” said Lily. “Dumbledore told me to try my hand at—”

“Research,” completed Potter, and Lily looked up from her cup of coffee, surprised.

Honestly! Did Potter know every single damn thing about her?

“Yes,” he said. “You’d make a good Unspeakable. You’re clever, and logical, and you have a very keen sense of observation. You’ve lately developed this habit of running away from human company, and drowning yourself in work. You’re also very aloof and reserved these days, so you’d definitely succeed in the Department of Mysteries... Considering you’ll be a mystery yourself.”

It hurts how correct Potter is. I _hate_ agreeing with him.

Lily gasped and glowered at him. “Reserved? Aloof? Me? I—what?”

Potter shrugged, an act that he’s very addicted to. “Everyone’s noticed that you’ve become very quiet this past year. You are no longer as cheeky as you once were, you never laugh, and I don’t think I’ve seen your smile reach your lovely eyes since a very long time. You can’t deny it.”

“You have no right to characterize me like that! Besides, what’s it to you whether I smile or not?” said Lily in a disdainful voice. “It’s no business of _yours_ how _I_ spend my time!”

“It _is_ my business, whether you’re happy nowadays or not. And it matters a lot to me, how you spend your time. More than you’ll ever know.”

There was a strange spark in his eyes, as he looked at her, and suddenly I was overcome with a desperate longing to rub my third feeler into action. Every time he looks at her like that, which is pretty often, I feel as if he’s piling heaps of coal on my head. Obviously, Lily felt the same way too, because I could see her reddening up.

Oh, Merlin! I _needed_ to know what was going through that Son of a Dementor’s head. What lewd perverted thoughts, what vileness lurked in the rusty interiors of Potter’s dilapidated brain….

Lily stood up hurriedly. “I’m leaving,” she said. “My friends must be waiting for me for breakfast.”

Potter said nothing. He was looking at her lips now.

This was nothing but torture. To see him look at her with his lecherous eyes…as if he wants to pounce on her and do things to her that I’d rather not think about…I’ve never been so humiliated in all my life!

Why the **devil** is my feeler not working?

Can you blame my poor girl rushing out of the Heads Chamber like a canary flees a Chimaera?

What am I talking about?

Potter **_is_** a Chimaera.

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****

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**7:30 a.m.**

**18th September, Sunday**

**The Gryffindor Common Room**

**Current Activity: Eyeing Jane’s Voodoo Set with great distaste**

**Word of the Day: Occultism (i.e. wearing a Mummy’s Mask while sleeping)**

**In which Puck remembers Merlin’s maturity with a heavy heart.**

I have yet to understand why a sweet, innocent girl like Jane Stebbins got involved in tampering with Necromancy. Necromancy—the art of awakening the Dead, and toying with their spirits— _isn’t_ meant for the good-hearted. So why has Jane developed such an enthusiasm for it?

Must be her ruddy brother.

I have still to recover from the terrible shock I got when he forced me to play _Evil Dead_ with him. It was a nerve-racking experience. I had to pretend I was The Ghost of Gangeringaguamalestika and he pretended he was a Spirit Catcher and chased me all around Hogwarts with a garlic clover. Alright, _alright_ , I’m young and energetic and swashbuckling, but that doesn’t mean I like bumping into doors and windows and walls and stuff.

“Jane, when will you give up on your obsession with Occultism and death?” snapped Lily, looking exasperated and disgruntled.

“The day you go out with my brother,” said Jane craftily.

So, _never_ , then.

Lily ignored her and continued tracing letters upon her school robes with a quill. Now that looked suspiciously like a “ _J_ ”…and that one like a “ _P_ ”….Was that an “ _H.B._ ”? Silly girl, hasn’t she mastered her alphabet yet?

“I heard you got an invitation for Bagman’s Celebratory Brunch,” said Emmeline, taking a delicate bite into her toast. Now where did she hear that? Some boy’s _tongue_ , obviously.

“Yes,” said Lily. “Its today, at eleven o’ clock. Have you been invited as well?”

“No,” said Emmeline. “I’m dating Petrov Sasha these days, who is currently not on friendly terms with Bagman. Petrov thinks Bagman cannot be serious about anything, and Bagman thinks Petrov is a bore. So Petrov hasn’t been invited, even though he’s in Hufflepuff too. It’s a pity. I’ve heard Bagman’s got a cute little birthmark on his nose. I wanted to check it out.”

Right. _Right._ Just his nose, Vance the Vain?

Hestia erupted into a fit of giggles. “Ooh!” she said. “Lily, you’re so lucky. A luncheon with Ludo Bagman, the _Bid Bad Boy_ of Hogwarts.” Giggle. Giggle.

Lily squirmed in her seat. “I won’t be the only one there. And the sole reason why I’ve been invited is because I’m Head Girl—“

“So, James will be there as well?” asked Emmeline, her eyebrows shooting up. Jane too looked up from her collection of tarot cards.

“I suppose,” said Lily, scowling. Then changing the topic immediately, she said, “Why do you keep calling Bagman the _Big Bad Boy_ , Hestia?”

Hestia giggled again. ”Oh, _everyone_ calls him that, Lily! He is rather famous for his gambling and bets… and he’s an extravagant spendthrift, but he’s very rich and has _such good taste_! And he’s tall and classy and—“

“Yeah, yeah,” said Jane, irritated. “Find someone who cares, why don’t you?”

Hestia lurched at Jane with her bottle of scarlet ink, and poured the contents over head.

“Girls!” admonished Lily, while Emmeline shook with helpless laughter.

“You ruined my Ghoul Statuettes!” cried Jane. “How am I ever going to talk to Merlin’s spirit again?”

_Are you there, Merlin?_

_It’s me, Basil._

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**8:30 a.m.**

**18th September, Sunday**

**Cooped up underneath Lily’s bed, while Lily is having a bath**

**Current Activity: Reading a certain book **

**_ PAGE ELEVEN OF ‘BE A MATCHMAKER’ MANUAL _ **

Henceforth, our team of Relationship Experts will be offering some innovative suggestions for you to try out on your subject, and to find a suitable match for her. We do not promise 100 per cent surety, but with each step, you’ll be getting closer and closer to your goal.

SUGGESTION NUMBER 1: DAMSEL-IN- DISTRESS TRAIT

Manual _: Has your subject ever held a position of authority?_

Puck:  **Yes.**

(Come on, she’s been Prefect twice, and she is Head Girl, isn’t she? I have a feeling she rather enjoys positions of authority.)

Manual:

_If she’s been in a position of authority more than once, it means she’s in the habit of being the one in control. She’s the one who drives relationships, and she is probably a bit bossy and domineering. Power often does that to a person._

_We all know that most men can’t stand a woman on top; it annoys them and displeases them, because it makes them feel insecure. They start believing that their girls don’t need them, that their girls love their career and independence more than them. And that’s not true, is it?_

_Men like their women to depend upon them for protection and comfort. This is called the classic Damsel-in-Distress Trait. Haven’t you read in old romantic love stories how the maiden must always wait for her Knight or Prince Charming to come and rescue her? Haven’t you read how the maiden must be a delicate little thing who is forced to bear pain for the sake of love, and must not kill the dragon even if she is a trained swordswoman and a brilliant sorceress? That era might be over today, but human nature remains the same, er, very deep down._

_Now, it is also possible that your subject is tired of her dictatorial role, it’s possible she seeks the thrill of being the one controlled. In any case, that’s what most boys want, so you must teach her to be a bit less domineering and a bit more of a damsel-in-distress. Enough said._

_ Ways to do it: _

_#1) You could find her a match who’s good at something_ she _herself sucks at. This would be a good way to make her express her desire to learn, to the boy in question._

_#2) Devise ways in which she’s compelled to ask help from a boy. Such as carrying heavy loads, doing homework assignments, asking notes for bunked classes, reaching out for books in the library…Stuff, you know?_

_#3) Get her in detention with the boy you’ve chosen for her._

_#4) Hide her wand when she needs it most._

_#5) Be innovative. Think up new ideas,_ and write them to us if you do.

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**9: 00 a.m.**

**18th September, Sunday**

**The Staircase leading to the Hogwarts Owlery**

**Current Activity: Wondering whether Lily will like what I’m going to do to her?**

**Word of the Moment: Damsel-in-distress (the girl who tumbles down a staircase into the arms of her beloved)**

**In which Puck realizes that Lily is hopelessly mundane in the Art of Love.**

I don’t suppose I’ve to expound what I just did.

I’d decided it was high time I gave Lily good practice on how to act like a woman of desire… This includes looking helpless, and pretty, and vulnerable…. Unlike the self-possessed, self-assured manner in which she carries herself.

_So--_

I gave Lily’s shoulder a nice big shove, and my super-pixie strength sent her off balance, and she tumbled down the staircase, unto the feet of her handsome saviour.

_Come ON, Lilykins! Act like a Damsel-in-Distress! I know you can do it, even you can do it! It’s easy. All you have to do is pout and look delicate and woebegone…._

_Go on, moan a bit, and groan a little. Sob, Lily, sob, and your tears will melt the heart of your man…._

_Lily, you irritating, frustrating little MINX! He’s helping you to your feet; he’s supporting you as you stand, so why can’t you pretend to faint in his arms?_

“There now,” said the boy, as my stupid, stupid Lily took hold of the banister (and not his arm) to steady herself, holding her bruised back gingerly.

“Are you alright?” he asked, bending down a bit, for he was an extremely tall fellow.

She looked up at him with a tight smile. “I’m fine, now. Thanks, Ludo.”

Ludo? As in Ludo Bagman, the _Big Bad Boy_?

I took in his appearance through narrowed eyes. He had a very boyish, friendly face, with baby-blue eyes and huge limbs and a Quidditch League sweatshirt. All-in-all, he seemed very good-looking.

Not to mention, he was the only one in the vicinity who came forward to help Lily when I pushed her down the stairs. Now, if _that_ doesn’t signify good breeding and good manners, _what_ does?

He smelt strongly of peppermint, no doubt due to the Droobles’s Bubble Gum he was chomping.

“Did you get the invitation-card for my Celebratory Brunch?” he asked. “You’ll be coming, won’t you?

“Of course,” said Lily. “Congratulations for making it to the Wasps.”

“Thanks, Thanks,” said Bagman, shaking the offered hand. “You know, I bet you use Jasmine & Cherry moisturizer on your hands; they smell heavenly. My mother uses it too”

Lily pulled her hands out of his grip, as if he’d burnt her. Bagman apparently had obviously not noticed her incredulous stare, for he went on rambling.

“I thought I saw you at the Quidditch World Cup this summer,” said Bagman. “I bet you didn’t like it, did you? I bet it’s too rough a game for you.”

“I didn’t go to the World Cup,” said Lily stiffly, and I rolled my eyes at her. “And I think Quidditch is a superb game.”

“Do you?” asked Bagman, delighted. “Then we think alike here. What’s in that bag anyway? I bet its books.”

Lily’s frown didn’t bode too well with me. “It’s a packet of Chocolate Frogs I’m sending to my Grandfather; he likes them a lot.”

“Ah, what a thoughtful granddaughter you are!” said Ludo, and I decided he was a very amiable young man. “I bet he’s a very lovable old man?”

“Yes,” said Lily, smiling affectionately at the thought of her beloved Grandpa. “He’s really cool.”

“Oh, well,” said Bagman. “I must hurry. I have to check the arrangements for today’s party. Nice bumping into you Lily.”

He had barely gone two steps, when he turned around and winked at me.

“You should be careful of that pixie, Lily. I bet he’s up to something.”

Who, _me_?

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**10:00 a.m.**

**18th September, Sunday**

**The Owlery**

**Current Activity: Watching Lily tie the letter to an owl’s claw, and allowing her to be angry with me for pushing her down the stairs**

**Word of the Day: Vindication (turning bad points into good ones)**

**In which Puck makes some deductions**

I’ve been thinking about Ludo Bagman while Lily’s taking her time in the Owlery, petting owls and cooing at them and stroking them and doing things she never does to me.

And I’m beginning to realize that Ludo makes a very good match for her. My reasons would be as follows:

He’s a handsome boy. Excuse me, but if Emmeline thinks a boy is good-looking, it means he _is_ good-looking. After all, she’s never been caught snogging a Horklump, has she?

He has good manners, and was kind enough to help Lily up even if she didn’t have sense enough to act like a damsel-in-distress.

He’s been recruited by an international Quidditch team, which means he’s going to be extremely rich. Now, I may be a gold-digger, but at least I’m practical.

He is a Quidditch Fan, who went to see the World Cup, and likes peppermint. He could be the Secret Admirer. And once he’s rich, his kleptomania won’t matter anymore, because then he’ll be able to buy them at first glance.

He could easily recognize Lily’s brand of moisturizer from his mother’s habits, which means that he’s a good son. It also means that he won’t ever object to Lily’s expenditures on cosmetics.

Its clear as daylight that he likes Lily and wouldn’t mind dating her. If that isn’t a plus point, what is?

OK, he likes gambling and placing bets on everything everyone does. But so what? It just means that he is brave and courageous, and is not afraid of taking risks. He likes adventure, and if he’s rich enough to be a spendthrift, what’s wrong with that? Life’s to be enjoyed, innit? And haven’t you heard? He who takes no risks can never take the leap to success. No pain, no gain.

_Ludo Bagman, I’ve got my eye on you._

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**11:00 a.m.**

**18th September, Sunday**

**The Hufflepuff Common Room**

**Current Activity: Mixing Firewhiskey in the Butterbeer**

**Word of the Day: Brunch ( a rabid bunch of partying teenagers)**

Being the Head students gives you free access to the all the House Common Rooms and tea-parties of Hogwarts. Basically, this was the fifth celebratory feast that Lily and I had attended this week. Sure, it gave us the chance to enjoy turkey whoosh, and marshmallow dips and chocolate dumplings and every other kind of delicacy we could have possibly wished for. But it gets really tiring after a while. Shake so-and-so’s hand a zillion times (and then practically forget his name!) and keep a poker-face expression or a dumb gormless smile all the time so that people don’t take you to be an anti-social party-pooping Dungbomb.

Lily was the only one there who was wearing her school robes. The rest of them were wearing the flashiest, fanciest clothes, and looking oh-so-smug. For example, Barnabus Cuff was dressed like a Red Indian, complete with his tomahawk, headdress and war paints. Now, I’m not complaining, but I too had the desire of seeing Lily wear something other than those drabs. It’d have made such a nice change to see her dressed as a banshee or queen bee or something like that. Something that would have drawn the attention of Ludo Bagman towards her.

Did I mention that Potter had practically glued himself to her side for the past half-an-hour? He was in his casuals—a gaudy orange T-shirt (that was making my eyes all blurry) and a pair of jeans. At least he had the decency not to come wearing a tent! I suppose I’ll have to give him _that_.

I don’t think Lily minded much about her appearance, even though I could see that she felt very out of place amongst this randy bunch of Hufflepuffs. Potter and she were the only two Gryffindors there, so naturally they were keeping each other company. Or so I tried to console myself.

As long as Professor Sprout was around, Potter wouldn’t have dared to attempt anything dirty with Lily.

Was that Amos Diggory I just saw in that Penguin’s dress? What is he, the best-looking loser of Hogwarts?

_Lily: Puck, what are you doing out there by the sofa?_

Erm, I’m spying on Dedalus Diggle, you know? The boy with the green hair who is Joe Stebbins’s best friend, remember? He’s snogging Diggory’s girlfriend…. No wonder Diggory looked so downcast. Well, I really can’t blame Daphne for choosing a Parrot over a Penguin. At least, Parrots are more colourful.

**Professor Sprout: What a dear little thing your Puck is, Lily! Did you have to train him?**

_Lily (with a smile): No, he’s a natural. You really shouldn’t have complimented him though, Professor. Now he’ll go strutting around the castle all week, showing-off._

Now I know what Potter felt like each time Lily threw her loaded insults at him. In public, too!

Potter must have been thinking along the same lines, because he had a most curious grimace on his face.

**Professor Sprout: I’m sure you’ll keep him under control, Lily…. Oh, I see Professor Sinistra is finally here! If you’ll excuse me, Lily, James—**

Oh, dear, Sprout’s moved away. I must be on my guard; any minute now, Potter’s going to move his mouth—

_Lily: You know, I’m not exactly enjoying this party, but I’m not sorry I came. It’s good to see that Ludo could manage it so well, and all on his own too. He’s finally developed a sense of responsibility, I think._

**_Potter (with a snort): If_ I’d _hosted a similar party, you’d have called me an arrogant jerk._**

True.

_Lily: Come on, that’s not true. If I have—_

**_Potter: It’s OK. It’s OK, Lily. You don’t have to apologize. I know I’ve been a moron._ **

What is this, Potter? A confession? Make-a-saint-out-of-me Mission?

_Lily: Not anymore. Not anymore. You’ve changed, James._

Funny. _I_ didn’t notice that.

**_Potter: You noticed that, did you?_ **

_Lily: Everyone’s noticed, James._

He was now staring at her openly, for every second of every minute. I hated those eyes of his. They looked transparent, but they seemed to hide too many secrets. And to think that he had 26 Fan Cubs to his name!

Mmm.… Yummy. This chocolate mousse is delicious… Mmm…. Mmm….

**_Potter: I didn’t get the chance to apologize for hitting Elphias Doge the other day… It’s just that I can’t tolerate anyone taking liberties that—_ **

Oh that’s rich, coming from him.

_Lily: Please don’t apologize; it’s fine…. You did the right thing, now that I think about it. I’ve tried telling him off so many times, but he refuses to accept that we’re over. He keeps saying that he wants me back—_

**_Potter: Can’t blame him for that._ **

What? What was that he just muttered? Why is Lily all red?

Oh, damn! I’ve got mousse in my ear… Splashing about in a bowl of mousse can do that to you. No wonder I can’t hear clearly.

I was poking a finger in my ear to clear it, when I realized that my legs were stuck to the basin.

Egad! I’m not able to move! Lily, love, I’m stuck in the mousse. Over here, over here. No, no, not to your left, to you right… Lily, is your meringue more interesting than me? Don’t you have any sympathy for my paralysis? DROP THAT SPOON RIGHT NOW!

_Sigh._

She didn’t hear me. Without my feeler, I’m nothing. She’s far too engrossed in food to care about my precious soul. Boo Hoo!

**_Potter: You’ve got something on your chin, Lily._ **

She does? Oh. There’s a stain of chocolate there… Oh, bless my beard! This spells only doom. Puck, buck up! Move your legs before it’s too late!

But all in vain.

With an ominous misgiving, I saw Potter shift closer to Lily. I saw him smile at her, and I saw him swipe off the smear, and I saw Lily stand there motionless under his touch.

AAAARGH!

I swear his hands lingered there more than necessary.

Now he’s going to boast all over the school that he touched Lily, that Lily Evans is _easy_.

As if my legs were just waiting for Potter to fulfill his darkest fantasies, they broke free a second later, and I emerged, huffing and panting, like I’d just run a marathon.

Thankfully for Potter, Bagman arrived just then, and I had to reign in my temper. I don’t want to scare away Bagman after all.

**Ludo: Enjoying the party, Lily? Potter?**

Lily smiled, still looking red, but Potter only gave a curt nod.

**Ludo to his friend Rodney Pontner: I bet they’re feeling downright lonely here, the only two Gryffindors amongst us.**

Pontner: So, Potter? Are you sad that you weren’t chosen for The Wimbourne Wasps yourself?

**_Potter: Not at all. I prefer Puddlemere United any day._ **

All losers do, Potter. All losers do.

**Bagman: Ah, the grapes are sour. But never mind, Puddlemere’s not a bad team. They just don’t pay too much.**

Pontner: Speaking of payments, you still haven’t returned my ten galleons, Ludo.

**Bagman: All in good time, Rodney, have patience… I’ve sent a letter to my Dad, he’ll be sending the money as soon as possible…. My father’s very excited about the whole thing, but it’s understandable. You see, the Wasps will be paying me 1000 galleons per week, and I bet that’s more than my father has ever earned in his entire career as an Unspeakable.**

Oh. So Bagman’s father is an Unspeakable? That’s a good sign. Old Mr. Bagman can prove a useful tool for Lily’s entry into the Department of Mysteries. The more I learn about Ludo, the more I begin to think that he’s the perfect mate for my Lily.

Potter and Lily were very quiet. They were obviously very intrigued by Bagman, just like I was.

Pontner: Hey Ludo! Wanna bet something? I think that your dad did a jig on the dining-table when he learnt of your selection for the Wasps, and that’s how he broke his leg.

What an interesting bet!

**Bagman: Five galleons that he broke his leg because a Hippogriff stepped on it.**

_Lily (looking scandalized): You can’t bet on your father like that! Do you have any idea how silly your bet sounds?_

Already so soon, she was back into the Head Girl mode.

Pontner: No worries, Lilykins. The sillier the bets are, the more entertaining they are. Don’t you think so Potter?

**_Potter: Oh, absolutely._ **

See, Lily? Even _Potter_ agrees.

**Bagman: Why are you looking so grumpy, Potter? Are you in jitters about the next Quidditch match? I bet you’re really scared, now that you know what a classy Quidditch player I am.**

**_Potter: I’m scared for_ you _Bagman, not for myself. I’m scared that you’ll lose. You see, I’ve full faith in the Gryffindor team, and they’ve never lost me a match yet._**

**Bagman: Then prepare to eat your own words, Potter. Because I bet we Hufflepuffs are going to win the Quidditch Cup this year. My last year.**

Pontner: Say! Why don’t we hold a phoney Quidditch match tomorrow. You know, just for practice. To see who wins and who loses...to see whether we are justified in our belief in our own Quidditch Team?

_Lily (ever the spoilsport): I don’t think that’s such a good idea—_

**Bagman: So Potter? Do you accept the challenge?** My **Hufflepuff team vs.** your **Gryffindor team. Tomorrow, early morning, at 6 a.m. sharp, before classes start?**

**_Potter (without hesitating): Deal. But if your team loses, you’ll give us Gryffindors a free lunch at the Three Broomsticks._ **

**Bagman: And if Gryffindor loses, you’ll do the same for us Hufflepuffs.**

**_Potter: Suits me fine._ **

**Bagman: Lily, would you like to be the witness of this contract?**

_Lily: Er, no. It’s OK. I’m not much of a Sports buff—_

**_Potter: Leave her out of this, Bagman… Lily wants to chicken out._ **

_Lily (with her eyebrows shooting up to make a steep “V”): I accept._

**_Potter (with a smirk): You do? You accept that you’re a chicken?_ **

The Hufflepuffs who had gathered around us roared with laughter.

Pfft. Potter.

I heard Pontner shouting to the room in general. “Who wants to bet 25 galleons that Potter’s going to lose?

Puck’s going to take that bet.

Puck’s going to make sure that Bagman wins, and Potter loses.

Puck’s going to make sure that Lily chooses Ludo Bagman over James Potter.

And Puck wants to be there when Bagman routs Potter into a pukey pulp.

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**Nightfall, Gryffindor Girls’ Dormitory**

**Current Activity: Watching Lily play Voodoo with Jane and Hestia**

**Word of the Day: Séance (Letting loose your hair and shrieking like a mad woman)**

**In which Puck is hit by a Zombie.**

Lily and the other Gryffindor girls of seventh year (Emmeline, Hestia and Jane) have always shared a very unique bond of friendship. They aren’t very close, but they can still fight like cats-and-dogs and forgive each other readily the very next day. They aren’t always sticking to each other like wads of chewing gum, but they still have a very comfortable rapport with each other. It’s a good thing, such comradeship, especially with a war looming large over their heads.

However, that doesn’t mean that Jane Stebbins can force Lily and Hestia into playing a game of Voodoo with her in the middle of the night. I mean, where’s the fun or the logic in disturbing my beauty sleep and frightening me with tales of bloodthirsty vampires?

Jane (with her brown hair dishevelled and black paint covering her face) is currently glaring at Lily, because Lily refuses to take part in re-awakening the dead. Hestia, on the other hand, is looking between Jane and Lily as if a Ping-Pong match is going on.

**Jane: Come on, Lily. This is a chance in a lifetime…to be able to talk to the sacred spirit of Merlin.**

_Lily: Oh, for goodness’s sake, Jane! It’s just a silly game. Its inventor was convicted thrice on charges of fraud. It won’t even help you to talk to your brother downstairs, forget Merlin!_

**Jane: It’s not a silly game! Joe has tried it out with his friends, and he says he talked to the Nameless Ninny of Nankein. He wouldn’t lie to me, would he?**

Umm….Let’s think. Oh, yes, he would. Considering his friends include Dedalus Diggle, his Tabby cat and the school owls.

Lily rolled her eyes, and took up the feathery little black pom-pom lying on the ground.

_Lily: I’m not going to wave that pom-pom thing over your head like a bloody cheerleader as you chant your stupid verses! Why can’t Emmeline do this sort of thing? She has had much more experience than me._

**Jane:Emmeline’s gone to talk with James about the theft of her jewels. And I need two people to wave the pom-poms!**

_Lily (frowning): Emmeline’s jewels were stolen? Why didn’t she come to me? Why to James Potter?_

**_Hestia (shrugging): I dunno, Lily. But she’s already lost three pairs of earrings, her set of silver bracelets, and her entire batch of rings. She was really upset, you know. You weren’t there at the time, so I suppose that’s why she went to find James…._ **

This is really depressing news, looking towards Emmeline’s side of the room. Her casket of jewels was by her dressing table, waiting innocently to be stolen. Who could do such a dastardly thing? Lily’s secret admirer? But how? He seemed such a nice person; could his kleptomania be so redundant? Was he so embedded in his disease?

**Jane: Lily, I’m talking to you! Our time is precious. We cannot let this auspicious moment slip us by! Can’t you do it just this once, for** my **sake?**

Lily looked woefully towards Jane, and I could see her visibly relenting.

_Lily: Fine. But I’m not going to chant_ “Ha-ha Haasha Pasha” _or anything like that—_

**Jane (with a scandalized expression on her face): It’s not “Ha-ha Haasha Pasha”… It’s “Hoola Hoo Saa Shaa”. And it’s integral to the séance! You MUST chant it as I read out the Voodoo Verses. Or the séance will be a dud, and I will never forgive you. Why, the chants are supposed to tell the Dead that they are still very much remembered and—**

_Lily: Alright, ALRIGHT! Hestia and I will wave the pom-poms, we will chant “Hoola Hoo Saa Shaa” and we will try to awaken Merlin’s spirit. But if that_ doesn’t _happen, and the game turns out to be a hoax, I will confiscate all your Voodoo and Hoodoo and Occult stuff, and you will NEVER organize a séance again. Got it?_

**Jane (with a defiant sneer, and a loud gulp): Deal!**

And so, here I am, watching a rather deranged Jane and the pom-poms swishing and swaying, and I’m trying to block my ears to the blaring chants of Lily and Hestia.

**_Hoola Hoo Saa Shaa._ **

_Hoola Hoo Saa Shaa._

**  
Jane: ARISE, O’ SLEEPING ONE, FROM YOUR CRYPTS. SPEAK TO ME, SPEAK TO ME. ARISE. ARISE. WAKE UP AND OPEN THINE EYES TO THY FOLLOWERS. COME FLYING TO US, FLYING, FLYING, FLYING ACROSS THE EIGHTY THOUSAND AND TWENTY ONE SEAS, ACROSS THE LAND OF KOOKABURRAS AND KAPPAKANS, ACROSS THE REALM OF RORUKAS AND RAFTALAS. AWAKEN. AWAKEN. AWAKEN!**

Why is Jane screaming so much? Are the dead _deaf_ as well?

**_Hoola Hoo Saa Shaa._ **

_Hoola Hoo Saa Shaa._

**Jane: WHY ARE YOU SILENT, O’ GREAT GHOST OF ZANZIBAR? WE ARE WAITING FOR YOU. SHOWER US WITH YOUR KNOWLEDGE. ARISE FROM YOUR GRAVES! ARISE. AWAKEN. ARISE. OPEN YOUR SLEEPY EYES.**

**_Hoola Hoo Saa Shaa._ **

_Hoola Hoo (GIGGLE GIGGLE) Saa Shaa (GIGGLE GIGGLE)._

**Jane: LILY, stop GIGGLING like a git! And HESTIA, you are swaying the pom-poms far too HARD! It’s blowing off the CANDLES!**

_Hoola Hoo Saa Shaa._

**_Hoola Hoo Saa Shaa._ **

_Hoola Hoo Saa Shaa._

**Jane: WHY ARE YOU ASLEEP; COME HAUNT US. WHITHER ARE YOU BOUND, COME HOUND…er…HAUNT US! FERULA, FERULA, FERULA. ARISE, ARISE, AND SPEAK TO ME, O’ WISEST OF THE WISE!**

My eyes watering from all the fumes and the perfume, I crept away from there, slowly, quietly, and approached the casket of Emmeline’s jewels. Not to frolic amongst them, you IMBECILE of a READER, just to gain some first-hand knowledge of the scene of the crime.

_Hoola Hoo Saa Shaa._

**_Hoola Hoo Saa Shaa._ **

_Hoola Hoo Saa Shaa._

**_Hoola Hoo Saa Shaa._ **

Interesting. Interesting. Emmeline’s turquoise earrings are gone too. Hmm…That’s a nice gold-chain. It has a ruby pendant. I’ve never seen that one before. Do you think I’d look like a Blue Jay wearing it, from this angle? Or, how about in _this_ position?

Oooooh.

What have we here? There’s a silvery thimble too. I remember Godmother Hoopoe wearing something like that on 111th birthday—

“CAUGHT IN THE ACT!”

I whipped around at the sound of Emmeline’s scream. She was standing at the doorway, her face wet with tears, and a wild look in her eyes. And…and…she had her index finger pointed towards…towards…ME?

ME?

What did _I_ do?

**Jane: OOH, VOODOO! HE HAS ARRIVED! MERLIN’S SPIRIT HAS ARRIVED! Oh, WONDER OF WONDERS… HORROR OF HORRORS! MERLIN HAS ENTERED EMMELINE’S BODY; HE IS SPEAKING THROUGH EMMELINE’S LIPS TO US…. Oh, speak! SPEAK TO US, Greatest of the Great Wizards. Speak to ME!**

WHAT?

**_Hestia: That’s not Merlin. That’s EMMELINE!_ **

**Jane: Shut up, INFIDEL! And DON’T SHOUT!**

_Lily: Quiet, both of you! Emmeline, what’s wrong?_

Emmeline who was now taking dangerous steps towards me, with her finger still raised at me, turned around to glare at Lily.

“What’s WRONG with me?” she yelled at my mistress. “What’s WRONG? You don’t know why I’m so upset? Don’t you know that my jewels have been stolen? Stolen. STOLEN by your darling little PIXIE!”

WHAT? DOUBLE WHAT?

“Puck would never do something like that,” said Lily in gentle voice. “He likes looking at them, that’s all there is to it.”

But Emmeline seemed beyond reason. She began chucking the Voodoo Figurines at me.

“My family heirloom ring is missing…. ( _She chucked a Zombie at me_ )…. Puck was playing with it last Sunday…. ( _A Ghoul was thrown at me._ )…. He must have liked it, so he decided to steal it! ( _Another Zombie flung at me here. Did Lily just deflect it with her wand?_ ) Why this miserable little piece of TOERAG! This... this… _IMP_!”

IMP?

_IMP?_

What _is_ it with people calling me an IMP! I mean, this is TOO BLOODY MUCH! They can’t take me so lightly… I mean, I have my own self-respect too. So what if I keep the company of poltergeists and redheads? Does that make me an IMP, I ask you—

I knew that Potter’s company would addle Emmeline’s senses one day.

I dodged the skeleton Emmeline sent my way. Why, she’s getting more and more like me with every passing day!

I noticed that Jane was eyeing the shattered remains of the Voodoo Figurines with great anguish. Oh goody! Emmeline’s definitely going to get her punishment soon enough.

“And when this little Punching Bag saw that my casket was unlocked, he took off with my rings, and—“

“ _Don’t you dare talk about Puck like that!”_ said Lily sternly, and I flew into her outstretched palm.

Yeah. Nobody wants to be called an IMP 24 hours of the day!

But when has Vance the Vain ever listened to good sound reason?

“Oh, but of course!” said Emmeline, looking quite mad in her plight. “Who would DARE to accuse the Head Girl’s pet—her mothball of a thief? But maybe you’re right and I’m wrong, Evans! Perhaps Puck hasn’t stolen my jewels. Perhaps YOU have! Yes, you are the criminal MASTERMIND of Hogwarts—“

“You’re raving,” said Lily with a supremely disdainful toss of her red mane.

“SHUT UP, you stupid little MUDBLOOD—“

There was a collective gasp from Jane and Hestia, and Emmeline suddenly fell silent, looking aghast, and clasping a spidery pale hand to her mouth.

I have never seen Lily’s face so white, like ash, so blank, so…so… _hurt_.

There was absolute silence in the room. Then—

“I’ll leave now,” said Lily shortly, and holding me tight in her hand, she rushed out.

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ONWARD TO **PART 2** , PLEASE! 


	9. Basil's Bludger Goes Berserk! (PART 2)

**_ BASIL’S BLUDGER GOES BERSERK (PART 2) _ **

 

** 18th September, Sunday **

**Nightfall, Head Girl’s Chamber**

**Current Activity: Sobbing into Lily’s pillow**

**In which Puck repents his past misdemeanors.**

_This is all my fault_ , I thought sadly, as I lay upon Lily’s pillow, weak with tears. _All my ruddy bloody fault._

If I hadn’t been so greedy and vain, I wouldn’t have been playing with Emmeline’s jewels, and Emmeline wouldn’t have wrongly accused me, and Lily wouldn’t have tried to vindicate me, and Emmeline wouldn’t have called her a—

“Go to sleep, Puck,” said Lily, patting my tiny head. “Tomorrow everything will be OK again.”

Will it?

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**19th September, Monday**

**Sunrise, Head Girl’s Chamber**

**Current Activity: Looking out into the Hogwarts grounds below through the open French window**

**In which Puck realizes that Absent-mindedness can be a virtue.**

When I woke up this morning, I found Lily sitting by the window, already bathed and dressed, and gazing all starry-eyed at the soft sunrays spilling over the tree-tops.

I tapped her on the shoulder, and fixed her with my hangdog look, but she was still enraptured with her artist’s world.

Apparently, she had forgotten last night’s gruesome episode. But the word used here is “apparently”. Since my feeler wasn’t working anymore, I could not decipher if her smile was merely a pretense.

“How lovely!” she breathed out in a dreamy voice.

Then, without a word more, she took off with her sketchbook and quill.

It’s a good thing that artists can be so absent-minded sometimes.

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**5:00 a.m.**

**19th September, Monday**

**The Quidditch Pitch**

**Current Activity: Admiring Lily’s pretty hands as she draws**

**Word of the Day: Pandemonium ( Noisy Confusion, or what Potter was born to create)**

**In which Puck is really, really irritated by Potter the Parasite**

I can see Lily’s quill moving swiftly over the pages, drawing trees and goal-posts and seats. She really should make a profession out of her art. Why become an Unspeakable, when art is so much easier, lovelier and more inspiring for her?

“Ahoy there, Lily!” cried Potter, climbing up the steps to the podium to disturb her. “You’re before time. The match starts at six.”

I could’ve said the same to him.

“Yes, I know,” said Lily simply. “But this morning when I woke up, I saw a little raven on my windowsill, and I was suddenly inspired to paint the Quidditch stadium. Do you ever get inspirations like that?”

“Er,” said Potter, which, of course, meant that no, he didn’t.

I could see the rest of the Gryffindor team trooping into the Quidditch grounds, buzzing some absurd anthem of their own. I’m sure you can guess who was singing the loudest out there. Why, Hurricane Hestia (a Chaser on the team), of course!

“So, Lilea, whatcha drawing today?” asked Sirius, as he hopped off his broom beside Lily. Sirius Black was on the Gryffindor team too, and I have to add here, somewhat regretfully, that he was a very skilled Keeper.

“The Quidditch pitch, I see,” said Wendy Wallace, the Gryffindor Seeker, as she clapped Lily’s back.

“She’s a great artist, our Lily,” said Sirius, eyeing Lily’s red face with much amusement.

What is this, a Gather-around-Lily Ceremony?

The Prewett brothers too had reached the podium by now, swinging their heavy bats like sacks of cotton. I’ve always liked Gideon and Fabian very much, and I wouldn’t have minded Lily dating either of them. But the trouble is, they both look so BLOODY ALIKE! Not to mention, they always make it a point to wear the same damn clothes and the same shoes and hairstyle, and the same cologne.

I mean, how’re you gonna know whether you’re snogging Gideon or Fabian?

The faces of the two brothers split into identical evil grins as they each took a jab at Lily’s braid. (Potter gave them a menacing look here.)

“Can you make out which of them is Gideon, and which one is Fabian?” whispered Sirius to Lily. “They’ve been annoying me all the way down here.”

Lily was very quick with her answer, because she had once experienced the same problem. “When Gideon smiles, his eye muscles crinkle up, but when _Fabian_ smiles, his forehead wrinkles up. That is how I manage to distinguish between them.”

Sirius chortled and gave her a thumbs-up sign.

“What are you two conspiring about?” asked Potter in a suspicious tone.

“I was telling Lily that our Captain’s barking mad,” said Sirius, “making us practice Quidditch at 5 a.m. of the morning.”

“We’re here because we have to train our newest and youngest Chaser, Bertram Botts for the upcoming matches, as I’ve reminded you twenty-one times already, Padfoot,” said Potter with a roll of his dirty muddy eyes.

Sirius shrugged and whispered something to my Lily, which was as usual, very important and very useless.

“So where is the dratted boy?” asked Wendy, stifling a huge yawn.

“Lily, are you sure you didn’t kill Bertie in your last tutoring session with him?” asked Hestia, struggling not to stumble over the seats.

“Oh, you tutor him?” asked the Prat called Potter.

“In Charms,” said Lily, now involved in a fight with Fabian to extricate her quill from his grasp.

“I think I can see Bertie on the pitch,” said Gideon, screwing up his forehead. “How excited he is! He seems to be doing some sort of tango with his broomstick.”

This _I’ve GOT to see for myself!_

_What’s up, Bertie, old fellow? Can’t wait to get a girlfriend, can you? Oh, that’s right, twirl your legs, dip it down, dip it down…. Now DON’T go SNOGGING it…. What? What’s that you’re singing?_

 

**_Bertie bought some blue beans_ **

**_But the beans were bitter_ **

**_So he bought some burgundy beads_ **

**_But the beads were bigger_ **

**_So he bought some blackbirds_ **

**_But the blackbirds were busier_ **

**_So he bought some brown bells_ **

**_But the brown bells were bulkier…._ **

 

_And obviously, Bertie kept on buying and buying and buying till his father became bankrupt and beat him black-and-blue with a broomstick._

“Hiya, Lily!” He screamed from the pitch, as the Gryffindor team flew down to form a circle around him, weak with laughter.

Lily waved back at him merrily, for she was rather fond of the chubby little second year.

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And then began a round of mindless flying and shouting, but Lily went on sketching and I went on admiring her work.

Potter was obviously not pleased.

He liked being in the spotlight, and Lily had not even glanced at him for the past ten minutes. I could see him turning around to gaze at her every now and then.

Finally, he got too hot for his collar and—

Potter the Pervert: **EVANS! Throw aside YOUR QUILL for a moment, and LEARN some tips FOR FLYING!**

Really! Students of Hogwarts can’t digest their food without a daily bout of shouting and shouting.

_Sirius: Come on, Lilea! Don’t be such a bore! Stop drawing and pay attention!_

Pay attention to WHAT, exactly? To BOORISH louts LIKE you?

Potter the Prick: **Some CHICKENS just DON’T GET it, PADFOOT!**

I swear I’m going to murder that idiot one of these days!

A slow and painful death... _And_ he’ll die begging me for mercy.

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Lily was resolute in her decision not to look at Potter through the entire practice. But Potter, the thick SKULL that he’s got, just wouldn’t leave her in peace.

He made it a point to:

1) Fly as close to her as possible

2) Holler as loud as possible

3) Throw Quaffles to her left and right

4)…. And be a right old toad in general.

I’m proud to say my Lily never budged (ignoring the fact that she DID smile once or twice, but that was because Potter looks like a clown when he’s flustered and grumpy.)

Potter the Petulant: **COME ON, Hestia! Don’t FLY LIKE A CHICKEN, fly like an EAGLE!**

Really that boy’s got a major, major ATTENTION-SEEKING DISORDER!

Bertie (flying close to Potter): ** _Is Bagman a very good Captain, James?_**

Potter the Proud: **NOT LIKE ME!**

Bertie: ** _I’m really worried James. This is going to be my first match, and I don’t want to fail you._**

_Sirius: Have you taught him the TURKEY TRICK, Prongs?_

AAAAAAAAARGH! What’s with these buffoons?

Turkeys and Chickens, indeed! Hmph.

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Potter the Pustule: **Alright, Bertie. Listen very closely to ME. I’m going to TEACH YOU a very important MANEUVER IN QUIDDITCH. It’s a very DANGEROUS tactic called the TURKEY TRICK! ‘T’ for TURKEY and ‘T’ for TRICK! It was INVENTED BY—**

Him, of course.

Bertie: **_Why are you shouting, James? You’re making my ears throb!_**

Hear. Hear.

Potter the Puke-worthy: **Who’s SHOUTING? I’m not SHOUTING! AND you pay ATTENTION to ME!**

Shout all you like, Potter. Lily’s never going to look up from her drawing of the Maple trees…. They’re so much more interesting than you, you know?

Not to mention, your deep loud voice is making her wince and distracting her from her work. Can’t you see it?

Potter the Pitiful: **NOW, HERE’S what YOU do! YOU SEE that Quaffle LOOP over THERE where Gideon’s FIGHTING with a BLUDGER? Now, WHEN THE QUAFFLE is PASSED TO you, you will START on a ZIGZAG TRAIL across the GOALPOSTS. UP, down, UP, down. Next to Sirius, next to Hestia, next to LILY… till YOU finally REACH the nearest OPPOSING goalpost. CLEAR, till now?**

Gosh! Doesn’t his voice ever get hoarse with all that screaming?

Sirius (from the Keeper’s end): _LOUD and clear, James! LOUD and clear!_

Potter the Pirate: **RIGHT, then. Ready, Bertie? ONCE you ARRIVE at the opposing Goalpost, you MUST PRETEND as if you’re suddenly SICK, and start FLYING straight DOWNWARDS. OK? The opposing team WILL THINK that you’re SICK and that you’ll LET GO of the QUAFFLE any moment now. THEY WILL CLEAR your path, and SHIFT aside, and THAT’S when you START CIRCLING THE LOOP, and throw the Quaffle IN. DO YOU GET IT?**

Bertie: **_Right into my ears… I mean, I thought that was called the Woollongong Shimmy Move._**

Potter the Pickpocket: **You thought WRONG!**

Fabian: James, why don’t you show him the move yourself? You’re a master at it.

Bertie: **_Oh yes, please._**

Potter the Punishable: **SURE, I will! You’ll become the Hogwarts heartthrob in a day! BOTTS, you SEE, GIRLS like that sort of a THING…even though they might SEEM INTERESTED in other ARTS.**

Bah. Humbug.

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So, after those innumerous declarations of impressive Quidditch moves, and loud rapier-edged hints towards Lily, Potter the Pernickety started to show Bertie his favourite “Turkey Trick”.

Even I was impressed by the way he zoomed like a comet alongside Sirius, across Hestia, next to Lily (where he fumbled for a second as their eyes met for the first time)… and so forth… till he finally reached the nearest opposing goalpost.

There, he pretended to tuck his tummy in and vomit, as his broomstick spiraled downwards with all the might of a cyclone. It was all happening so fast that everything seemed blurred and hazy, and I could see Lily dilate her eyes for greater focus. (Yes, her eyes were fixed towards Potter the Puerile now…but only because she wanted to portray a _performing orangutan_ in her painting.)

Bertie watched with adoring eyes as Potter the Pest took a reverse turn upwards and geared himself for circling the goalpost, ready to fling in the Quaffle any moment. But, obviously Fate had something else in store.

It’s called nemesis, that’s what it’s called.

**_BWONG!_ **

In his last bid for Lily’s attention, Potter the Pompous had obviously forgotten how to perform the Turkey Trick. For, as his team watched in horror, Potter the Plunderer’s feet got entangled in the hoop, his feet collided with his own Quaffle, and his broomstick bucked forward, leaving only one option for him.

Potter started tumbling down to the ground.

“PRONGS!” cried Sirius Black as he rushed to help his friend.

“ ** _Defortius_** _!_ ” shouted Gideon, with his wand stretched forward, and I saw Potter slowing down through his fall.

He plopped down to the ground with a soft “ _thump_ ”, but his eyes remained closed.

Ah, peace has returned to my ears. The Quidditch pitch is so silent you can hear the drop of a pixie.

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Lily (shaking Potter, much to my chagrin): James? James! Wake up! What’s wrong with him? Why’s he still unconscious? Gideon _did_ use the Slowing Charm on him; he couldn’t have been hurt! James!

The roles seemed to have reversed here. Potter’s the one who’s playing Damsel-in-Distress, and Lily’s his saviour.

Oh, I knew that Manual couldn’t always be right.

Sirius: _Why don’t you try your Rejuvenation Charm on him, Lilea? Or better still; give him a MOUTH TO MOUTH RESUSCIATION! I’m sure that will work!_

WHAT? HOW DARE HE? HOW IMPUDENT! HOW INSOLENT OF HIM TO—

Lily (still bending over Potter): Why don’t we use some Stinking Salts? Hestia always carries some with herself, don’t you Hestia?

Right on cue, Potter the Pretentious started squirming and coughing on the ground, which was his way of saying that he was conscious again and didn’t need some Stinking Salts to be revived.

What a pity.

**Potter the Pothead** (opening his eyes and finding Lily _still_ bending over him!) **: Am I in Heaven?**

HEAVEN? Why, you POTTER! You won’t even find a place in HELL!

Lily: I really should be taking points off you, James Potter, for jeopardizing Bertie’s life! If even _you_ can’t do the Turkey Trick, how do you expect that a second year old will be able to? I hope you know…. _blah blah blah_ ….

Potter the Polygamist just kept staring at her with a dazed, glassy-eyed face and a senseless goofy smile.

“My heartiest greetings to the Gryffindor Team!’

I swivelled around to see who’d spoken….

Oh, HURRAY! Hurray!

BAGMAN’S HERE!

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**6 a.m.**

**19th September, Monday**

**The Quidditch Pitch**

**Current Activity: Trying not to cheer for Gryffindor**

**Word of the Day: Hazard (danger, like that of seeing Potter triumph over Bagman)**

**In which Puck considers suicide.**

Although Quidditch has always been too lazy a game for me, I’m not that new to it. Prince Eric the Third of Sparta (one of my previous owners) used to haunt every single Quidditch match, and we would sit together in the topmost isolated boxes meant for the royal families. He would sit there, looking so innocent and harmless, when actually he’d be hexing the unsuspecting Quidditch players. He had a whole batch of Confounding Charms, Trip Jinxes, Hurling Hexes and Body Bludger Curses up his sleeve, and he used them lavishly, without shame, without remorse.

He wasn’t evil. He was…just… _mean_.

….A trait that he possibly passed on to Potter the Psychopath. Are they long lost relatives, do you think?

Honestly! Even when Potter the Psychotic is battling with Quaffles and yammering at teammates, he manages to produce a thesaurus on chickens, turkeys, ducks and other poultry birds with astounding expertise. He must have been a Butcher in his past life.

Alright, ALRIGHT. So Potter’s an irritatingly perfect Chaser, who’s made fifteen goals in the past one hour (Doesn’t he ever miss?) and is the sole reason why the Score Board says _GRYFFINDOR 160, HUFFLEPUFF 20._

But this only shows that I don’t hold grudges, and can accept the good points of even my enemies.

Poor Bagman, if only the Hufflepuff team hadn’t been such a bunch of dilapidated DOXIES.

PONTNER, betting with Dirk Creswell about WHAT his FARTS smell like will not help you GET RID of the Bludger coming towards YOU!

No, LUDO, now’s NOT the time to bet WHETHER Florence Mallory’s Quaffle will be a hit or a miss. SEE? She MISSED, and BOTTS SCORED! Ludo, I beg of you, GIVE up your WAGERS with Davey Gludgeon RIGHT NOW. Don’t you think TOMORROW would be a better day to bet if it’s a SUNDAY or NOT?

CARADOC DEARBORN! You were appointed Hufflepuff Seeker for a reason! Stop winking at Wendy and search for that SNITCH!

_Gryffindor 210, Hufflepuff 30._

BILLIONS OF BLUE BLUNDERING BURPING BELLOWING BANDICOOTS!

Don’t they ever learn from past mistakes? Whatever happened to their challenge to beat Potter?

While I was getting worked up at the lowly Hufflepuff scores and Potter’s vile tricks, Lily had shut her sketchbook and had chewed down her Quill to its very nib.

“Puck, did you really steal Emmeline’s jewels?” asked Lily suddenly, watching the match between the two teams with detached, unfocussed eyes.

Reader, I was immeasurably hurt by her question; saddened that she would distrust me so. Did she have no faith in me at all?

“Hey, Puck,” she cooed to me, “I know you didn’t. I _know_ it. But once you affirm it, I’ll be more confident… confident enough to battle with the whole world for you. So tell me again. You didn’t steal Emmeline’s jewels, did you?

I shook my head at her to say ‘no’, and she gave me a pitiful smile to show that she believed me, but for some reason, the hurt was not yet gone.

Oh, well. _Quid pro quo_ , as they say.

I had hurt her too, hadn’t I? Wasn’t I the reason why Lily had been slandered by her best friend, Emmeline Vance?

I turned back to look at the Score Board.

_ Gryffindor 230, Hufflepuff 30. _

“BUCK UP, YOU IMPS!” I heard Potter shout to his team.

Something stirred in my memory; something snapped in my mind.

Anger—anger at Emmeline, anger at Potter, anger at Lily, anger at myself—was flooding me with a recklessness I had forgotten years ago.

Revenge. Revenge. Revenge. The only word coursing through my blood like an irrevocable mantra.

REVENGE. REVENGE.

_I may be down in misery, I may be helpless with rage, but I’ve not yet lost my genius, and my memory is as shiny as it always was._

An ancient curse came springing to my mind, and I suddenly knew, as clear as a fairy’s tears, what I had to do.

_Yes, Basil. This is it, your only chance. What a brilliant way to get rid of Potter and making Bagman Lily’s hero, all in one stroke!_

_There it is, Basil. Lily’s wand is lying on the seat, completely forgotten. No one is watching you. Lily is engrossed in the match._

_Pick it up, Puck. Pick up Lily’s wand._

_Use it, Puck. Use Lily’s wand for the greater good of mankind._

_Pick it up, go on._

I took up the wand, and I muttered the words of the Body Bludger Curse that the crafty Prince Eric had taught me.

 

**_Come on, Ludo, we’ll win this fight_ **

**_Twist your bat and swing it right_ **

**_Bludger coming through; be on your toes_ **

**_Swift and sure, it will charge at your foes._ **

**_Bludger be ready, Bludger be nimble_ **

**_Bagman’s foe you must hit, and never fumble_ **

**_Bludger be rough, Bludger be faster_ **

**_Listen to Puck, and go hit—_ **

 

**_LILY!_ **

_Lily! What are you DOING?_

_You snatched away your wand, right when I was going to say Potter’s name, and I said your name instead. Have you any idea—_

_Oh. Merlin. No. This CANNOT be!_

**WHAM!**

“Lily!” was the united chorus from the Quidditch pitch, as the Bludger hit my hapless mistress, Lily Evans, with all the force of a tornado.

“I bet she was HIT really HARD by that Bludger!” I heard Pontner shout to Bagman. “Her face is all covered in BLOOD!”

_Lily, Lily, my beloved angel, have I killed you? Have I disfigured you? Have I ruined your pretty face?_

_Lily, Lily, my sweet little twit! Why did you pluck your wand away, oh, why did you distract me?_

“Is she alive?” screamed a hysterical Hestia, disembarking from her broomstick and tripping on a stone chair.

“Of course she’s ALIVE!” snarled Gideon, looking as if he wanted to slap her, but I could see he was not too sure about this.

_Don’t slap her, Prewett. Slap me!_

_Oh, what have I done?_

_I should jump off the Astronomy Tower._

“Bagman, you WANKER!” cried Sirius, brandishing a fist at the Hufflepuff Captain. “YOU COULDN’T EVEN HIT A BLUDGER PROPERLY! YOU WITH YOUR STUPID WASPS’ UNIFORM AND STUPID TALL CLAIMS, AND YOU COULDN’T EVEN HANDLE YOUR BAT? YOU’VE KNOCKED HER OUT! YOU’LL PAY FOR THIS, BAGMAN! I SWEAR—UGH!”

I will never forget the way Hestia was sobbing and hiccupping, and the way Wendy kept wiping at Lily’s bruised forehead and wincing.

“I think I can feel a pulse,” said Potter, holding Lily’s wrist within his palm, a very bizarre expression on his face, a strange darkness in his eyes.

“Hurry, then!” said Sirius. “Let’s take her to Madam Pomfrey at once.”

I watched with teary eyes as Potter conjured up a stretcher for her, and directed it through the crowd of Quidditch players, Black and Hestia close at his heels.

“You guys are making too much of this,” said Bagman, who hadn’t batted an eyelid all this while. “I bet it was all just a stunt for getting attention, that all. I bet Lily will recover in a day or two, the sly vixen!”

Potter whipped around, and fixing Bagman with the most dangerous look he could muster, he shouted—

“ ** _VOMPULA_!”**

Potter’s hex sent Bagman into an attack of coughing and spluttering and vomiting. He cried out to the rest of them for help, but nobody wanted to look at the PUKEBAG GASBAG FUNGUSBAG WINDBAG BAGMAN who had just insulted _Lily Evans_.

To think that I even considered an insensitive, barbaric, careless, indecent, uncivilized bumpkin as a prospective suitor for Lily!

I BET Bagman will be thrown out of the Wimbourne Wasps within a day!

Who else wants to wager on that?

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** FOOTNOTES: **

I’m sorry if you’ve found any spelling or Grammar mistakes, but I was anxious to post this chapter; its been 3 months after all.

**How about that new exciting dish on the menu? The dish called a REVIEW?**

**R**

**E**

**V**

**I**

**E**

**W**

**Review! Review! Review! It’s always delicious.**

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